Lady of Wolves
by ShadowHeartWolf
Summary: Arya Stark trains to be No One. But her plans for revenge are disrupted when she finds herself in an unknown land, which itself is on the verge of war. In other words, what will happen when Arya joins the Fellowship of the Ring with Nymeria by her side?
1. Chapter 1

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 1**

"Useless," came a voice whispering out of the darkness the girl found herself in. "Weak, pathetic. Not worthy to be called No One."

The girl snarled at the voice, but realised that was a mistake when the ironwood staff smacked her sides again and sent her to the ground. The pain was no stranger to the girl, but it was the fury and humiliation that hurt the hardest.

The girl forced herself to stand, relying on instinct to lift the staff she held in the direction of the voice. ' _If only I still had my sight...'_ _the girl_ found herself thinking.

But no – that could never be.

The girl slowed her breathing and listened.

Two months was how long the girl had been training with the Waif, two months of fear and pain and rage. No more. The situation was clear and simple; all the girl had to do was stand her ground and be victorious in her fight with the Waif, and she would be one step closer to being No One.

The girl hefted her staff, ears straining to hear the tell-tale steps that foretold the movements of the other.

The sound of air parting reached her ears, and the girl raised her staff - not a moment too soon. The _thwack_ of wood meeting wood resonated in the cavernous space of the training room. Then another blow came, and another, the girl finding it within herself to block them all, relying on instinct and hearing and hard-won strength.

 _'No_ _more_ ,' the girl thought to herself. ' _N_ _ _o__ _longer will I be useless and weak and pathetic. This time I will win.'_

With this in mind, the wolf inside her snarled in satisfaction and rose up, lending strength to the girl and guiding her staff in the fight, until at long last the girl managed to beat back the Waif.

The girl smiled, the tip of her staff held to the other's throat, and three slow claps echoed in the chamber.

"It seems the Waif is no longer needed for your training. Come, girl, and follow." The new speaker was one that the girl had not heard in a long time, but it was impossible to forget the sound of the Kindly Man's voice.

The girl threw down her staff and followed, noting that the Kindly Man was leading them to the hall with the fountain, her blindness no longer an obstacle in finding her way around the House of Black and White.

The girl had every corner and passageway memorised, just like the number of steps it took to get anywhere.

That was one advantage to being blind; that and having her other senses sharpen and develop.

"Hurry, girl. The Many Faced God will wait for nothing and no one," the voice stated, breaking the girl out of her thoughts and hurrying her steps to the fountain in the middle of the entrance hall. "Sit."

The girl sat on the edge of the fountain, both repulsed yet strangely intrigued by the poisoned waters it held. It would be too easy to slip some to those who made her life this hell, the ones who took those she held most dear from her. Cersei, the Mountain, the Hound... these would all die one day, a long, slow, painful death. And she would be the cause.

The darkness in her couldn't help but smile at the thought.

A hand smacked her head harshly.

"A girl must leave everything behind to be No One," the Kindly Man reminded her, disappointment obvious in his tone. The girl was getting better at distinguishing the emotions and all that was held in the voices of men, but was still unable to let go of her past. "A girl with a past cannot be No One. Remember this if you ever wish to be one of the Faceless."

The girl bowed her head with acceptance, biting back the retort another version of herself would have shouted for all the world to hear.

Stone grated against stone, the girl shifting in her seat to hear better as the Kindly Man lowered a bowl into the fountain. He filled it with the water and passed it to the girl, waiting for her to adjust her hold before taking his hands away. "Drink."

The girl hesitated, thoughts of distrust entering her mind, before lowering the bowl. The girl felt the Kindly Man grab her hands and lift the bowl for her. "Drink."

The girl shuddered.

It was the first thing the girl had been taught here: trust nothing and no one unless it is yourself. Her blindness was caused by foolishly believing that the Kindly Man was her friend eight years ago, and there was no way the girl wanted to lose another of her senses. But then again, there was nothing for them to gain by taking another of her senses away. Not yet. And after all this time, the girl found it hard to believe that the only path they had chosen for her was death.

It could not be, but just to make sure the girl asked a question. "What will happen if I drink?"

The girl was not prepared for the Kindly Man to laugh.

"You are getting better. Had you not questioned me, you would be writhing on the ground with your dying breaths forced through your throat. But now... now, it gives you the power to change your face. You will be called No One, and you will be a Faceless Man. Do not waste the gift. Drink."

The girl hesitated one last time.

"You will also get your sight back," he added, almost as an afterthought. That was enough for the girl, for if there was one thing the girl regretted, it was losing her eyes.

The girl drank.

Almost immediately the pain hit her, collapsing her legs under her and throwing her on the floor.

Pain which erupted through her body, making her feel as though she was slowly being torn apart, one piece at a time, with burning fire forcing its way through her veins.

The girl tried to scream, but droplets of scarlet blood were the only things that made their way out of her mouth, laid twisting upon the stones, unable to speak or breathe. The girl couldn't see, and that made the pain so much worse, coupled with the realisation of failure.

The girl grabbed at Needle's outline from beneath her clothes, clutching the hilt tight, hoping her half-brother had remembered her before his death. Feeling the presence of the Kindly Man leaving, in her fear and desperation, the girl managed to speak one word, tears trickling down her cheeks as her body convulsed outside of her control.

"Why?" It was nothing more than a whisper, but the Kindly Man heard it all the same. Through her suffering the girl heard him answer.

"Arya Stark was too trusting. She would never be No One. Not as long as she carried a sword named Needle hidden under her robe." And with those partings words she felt the poison shred her last remaining tatters of life, and in her pain she rejoiced that she would see her family soon. Her father, mother and brothers... and darkness took her from the world.

~o0o~

Arya waited for the pain to stop, but if anything it got worse, almost unbearable to the point where she wished death would finally come to ease her suffering and deliver her to whatever cursed afterlife she had earned.

Finally unable to take it any longer, she screamed out, a long shrill note that spoke of suffering and pain unimaginable by many of the people who dwell on the earth. Her scream turned to a sob of shock and relief when she heard a soothing voice, one full of kindness and wisdom that soothed away the pain.

" _You have suffered much, little Arya, but be brave, for you are needed. Remember: the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Do not abandon the pack you will find, or else the world will suffer for your mistakes."_

Arya's thoughts started to swirl around the words the voice had spoken, when she realised her body felt painfree all of a sudden, and different; longer, slighter, stronger.

In all actuality, the white light fluttering before her grey eyes was not her imagination either, especially as the stones beneath her seemed to become dirty all of a sudden, littered with leaves and small small twigs.

Arya's eyes closed as she fell into a deep oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 2**

When she next opened her eyes, she was no longer surrounded by darkness, but a misty outline of a forest that was far older than any she had ever seen.

 _'Where the Seven Hells am I?'_ she thought, squinting at the trees, watching as the mist crept away and all the details were revealed. The trees were huge, old, grey coloured, but they weren't any Arya knew. From what she could see through the leafy crowns, it was day, though the forest had an aura of darkness and mystery.

 _'Wait... I can see?'_ she thought in surprise as her wide eyes tried to take in all the colours after eight years of darkness.

Her shock lasted an instant, before her mind quickly flashed to more pressing matters and filled with anger and confusion and an uneasy sense of fear. ' _The Kindly Man tried to murder me! And what just happened with that voice, and now this forest? How am I not dead?'_

She shivered and pressed a hand to her side to check if Needle was still there; a wave of relief washed through her when she felt the familiar hilt through her clothes, though it quickly changed to the beginning of panic as she remembered the betrayal of the Kindly Man, so she did what anyone would do in her place.

She screamed at the trees, and then screamed some more, though it didn't take long for her to realise that it wasn't a good idea to scream in a forest, gods know where, alone, after what had just happened to her.

A low growl from somewhere behind her only confirmed it.

Heart beating fit to burst, Arya slowly spun around towards the source of the noise while moving her hand to Needle's hilt, only to see more trees. She breathed a short sigh of relief, which quickly vanished when she saw a large black shape leap towards her out of the corner of her eye.

Although she tried to draw Needle, she was too slow as the beast knocked her to the ground and pinned her down.

Arya cried out but went silent as she saw the creature properly for the first time, with its large golden eyes and beautiful grey fur, muzzle slightly raised as it whined happily and began to lick her face.

She laughed, her eyes filling with tears as she gazed upon the direwolf she thought she had lost forever. "Okay Nymeria, I get it. I missed you too! You have no idea how glad I am to see you after so much has happened." The last part was said in a whisper with tears rolling down her face. Nymeria began the process of licking her face all over again, prompting Arya to laugh through her tears and give Nymeria a gentle shove to get her off.

Groaning, she stood, grimacing at the dirt now smeared onto her dress. Sighing, she turned to Nymeria who was now as tall as Arya's shoulders, but was behaving more like an overgrown puppy in her joy to see her companion again.

"You've grown so big, Nym. We have got a lot to catch up on, but it will have to wait for now. Do you know of any villages around here?"

Nymeria leapt to her feet eagerly, and started bounding on ahead with a joyous yelp.

"Wait for me!" Arya yelled, sprinting right after her through the forest.

Time passed as the two ran through the forest, only stopping at times to give Arya time to catch her breath, then running right on at a pace that was comfortable to both of them.

After a couple of hours of this, Arya was grateful to look up and see that they had come to the edge of the forest.

It was only then that she realised she was on the point of collapse. "Nymeria, wait! I need to take a rest!" she gasped out, lungs burning. Nymeria looked at her and huffed impatiently, but loped back to where Arya had leant against a tree to keep standing.

"Thank you." Arya muttered with relief, before allowing her legs to give out and sprawling on the leaves and grass underfoot.

 _'Arya Underfoot,'_ she remembered with a smile. ' _How long ago that was... Mother, Father, Robb, Bran,_ _Rickon, Jon... if only you had been wiser and less bound to honour and trust, you would still live like Sansa and I do... and I don't even know Sansa's fate.'_

The last she had heard of her remaining family was eight years ago; that was when the Kindly Man still allowed her to leave the House of Black and White. Then, when she had broken down over the news that Sansa had been forced to marry Ramsey Bolton, in the most violent and unpredictable way possible, the Kindly Man had forbidden her access to the outside world, and had kept her locked in the keep to hone her skill with weapons, poisons and other, deadlier, methods of bringing death.

It was around that time her sight had been taken from her.

Arya felt the familiar grief haze her vision as she thought of those she used to call family. The guilt, pain and sadness never went away, though it had been over ten years since she had run to escape King's Landing on the day of her father's execution. _'I am twenty and a half now, and older than Robb ever lived to be-'_

Nymeria snarled, breaking Arya out of her daze and hauling her back to the present.

She got up swiftly and took out Needle, seeing Nymeria growling at a rocky overhand above and to their left side, about fifty paces away.

Arya squinted up at the rocks, and was surprised to hear panicked voices. She moved closer, catching sight of three vaguely human shapes that were steadily growing larger. They tried to stop their steps as they reached the overhang, but it was too late once a fourth shape smacked into them.

Reality hit her and she threw herself to the side as they came tumbling down the slope. She twisted in the air and landed on her feet like a cat, with Needle pointing towards them. Arya watched silently as the shapes rolled to a stop and started getting up with muffled shouts from the ones underneath. She couldn't see any obvious weapons or things that could potentially be used as weapons, though their baggy clothes could have definitely hidden some.

They didn't seem strong enough or big enough to pose a threat to her and Nymeria; her eyes widened when she took in their small stature and bare, hairy feet. ' _Are they children? They are no bigger than I was when I was ten!'_

"Uh, guys? Turn around very, very slowly." Arya heard the shockingly deep voice come from one of the creatures in the middle. She fixed her gaze on his when she noticed that he had seen her and Nymeria, and found a sense of grim satisfaction in the look of fear upon his face and his startlingly blue eyes.

Nymeria growled from beside her as the direwolf moved to get closer to them, and Arya heard the terrified whimpers of the other creatures when they turned towards her.

She pointed Needle towards them and smiled coldly when she saw them all take a step back. The smile vanished when she saw one of them bravely step forward, head held high. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Arya frowned at the portly creature who had spoken just then, then tipped her head back and laughed out loud, sheathing Needle and calling back Nymeria. The creatures frowned and gave each other questioning glances, then looked back to Arya when she spoke.

"You are brave, I'll give you that. But be warned, it is not such a good idea to make demands when you are faced with strangers who may wish you harm."

The portly one spoke again, though with less confidence and more hesitation. "Who are you, then?"

Arya smiled. "Give me your names and I'll give you mine."

"My name is Samwise Gamgee, but call me Sam," he said without hesitation. Arya nodded thoughtfully, then turned her head to the other creatures.

The one with the blue eyes and black hair spoke next, though Arya detected hostility and suspicion in his voice. "Mine is Frodo Baggins."

The final two jostled their way forwards and bowed in tandem to Arya. The one on the left spoke first: "It is a pleasure to greet you, fair lady. My name is Meriadoc Brandybuck, but you may call me Merry."

Over their heads Arya saw Sam and Frodo rolling their eyes and stifled an unexpected giggle.

The one on the right snorted, determined not to be outdone. "O beautiful maiden, it is such an honour to witness your presence on this most glorious of days. I am Peregrin Took, though I prefer to be called Pippin."

At this Arya couldn't help but laugh, pink colouring her cheeks as she looked down on Pippin and Merry. "I am glad that you think so, though that cannot be further from the truth. And as you have given me your names so I will give you mine. I am Arya, and this is Nymeria." She gestured to the direwolf, not letting on that she hadn't given them her last name. Just in case, it was always safe to be cautious. "Do not worry, she will not hurt you. But if you do not mind me asking, what are you? And where am I?"

The four turned surprised glances towards each other, then Frodo made his way forwards. "Are you sure you do not know where you are, nor what we are?"

Arya shook her head regretfully. "I am afraid not. I have never seen your kind before, and I do not even know how I got to this place." She didn't attempt to keep the worry and sadness out of her voice as her face fell slightly.

Understanding dawned on the four. Frodo made to speak again, when Nymeria growled. Arya frowned and lifted her head to her direwolf. "Nym, what do you hear?"

The direwolf looked at her and Arya saw true fear in Nymeria's golden eyes. She stepped back abruptly. "We need to hide. Now."

The others looked at her in fear.

"Miss Arya, what is it?" Frodo asked, voice trembling.

Arya paused and looked at him, trying to soften the panic she felt. "Evil approaches. Something terrible enough to make even a direwolf feel fear."


	3. Chapter 3

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 3**

They wasted no time dashing under an overhang of one of the great trees.

Arya hoped the cover provided by the tree and its gnarled roots would be enough to hide them from whatever was coming; she could feel the malevolent evil slithering its way through the forest around them, searching for something – or someone.

She risked a glance at the beings next to her, hopefully hidden from sight by Nymeria's grey fur, which was perfect for blending in with her surroundings, appearing to be nothing more than a smattering of twigs and soil in the dim twilight.

The two jokesters, Merry and Pippin, were huddled together with their eyes squeezed firmly shut, while Sam was shaking and alternating between opening and clenching his fists.

And then she heard it. A ghastly, shrill screech of something that was rotten to the core.

The steady thumps of horse hooves reached her ears, but Arya didn't dare move as they came nearer and nearer.

 _'So this is what it feels like to be frozen with fear,'_ she thought offhandedly.

She didn't even realise she was holding her breath until twinkling stars began to dance in front of her eyes, doing nothing to block out the hooded black being she caught a glimpse of through the overhang of roots and earth.

Breathing out slowly, she glanced at Frodo, then sucked in a sharp breath. Arya was pretty sure that lying on the ground with your eyes rolled back wasn't good.

"Frodo! Frodo, wake up!" she hissed, careful to keep her voice as quiet as a mouse's whisper, though it didn't appear to help as Frodo started to lift a strange ring to his finger.

Her breathing quickened; she did not like the feeling of that ring, but she was too far away to reach him. She looked around frantically, before remembering what she had been taught. _Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords._

She focused on calming down, then quietly motioned to Sam. "Sam! Help Frodo!"

The little man looked confused, then nodded, immediately understanding when he saw Frodo, ring almost on his finger. Arya watched as he grabbed Frodo's hands to keep them apart.

Another ghastly screech echoed through the forest. The proximity of it made Arya want to flee with her tail between her legs like a frightened puppy, but she restrained herself easily.

Unfortunately, it appeared that there were more than one of those dreadful monsters.

Nymeria tensed, fur standing on edge as the creature above them leant over the overhang, just a split-second too late to see a bag suddenly fly through the air and smack into a tree trunk some distance away.

The six waited with baited breath as the creature made no signs of moving.

Arya felt the cold sweat trickling down her back as the moments passed. She nearly collapsed with relief when the creature moved away, mounting a ghostly black horse and galloping off.

Almost at once the fear and darkness left them.

Arya turned her head to Nymeria. "Is it safe?" she whispered.

Nymeria swivelled her head to Arya, then bowed her head in a very un-wolflike nod.

She laughed shakily, then waited as Nymeria got up and moved away a bit to let the small men get out from the cave-like overhang. Rising to her feet, Arya looked over the four, gaze lingering on Frodo, before deciding that they were fine, if a little freaked out and scared.

She cleared her throat. "Everyone, get up. I don't know what the hell this world is or what those things were, but you are _not_ going on alone, as it is so glaringly obvious that you have next to no way of defending yourself. Nymeria and I will join you."

Arya saw the looks of relief from each of the small men, and was pleasantly surprised that none of them made any objections.

A small cough echoed behind her. Turning, she arched an eyebrow at Sam, whose ears went red, gaze stuck firmly to his shoes. "Yes, Sam?" she inquired, smirking slightly.

"Y... you wanted to know what we are," he stammered, blushing furiously. "Well then, we are Hobbits. And we live in this place, which is known as Middle Earth. We are also trying to get to a town named Bree, which shouldn't be too far away, while incidentally avoiding the... things we just saw."

Arya smiled gently at him. "Thank you for telling me this, Sam. I suggest we get going, as it will get dark very soon, and I'd rather not encounter those creatures while night reigns. Does everyone agree?" The last part was spoken with her voice raised so that each Hobbit could hear her. Frodo grinned at her, though his face was still rather pale and shaken.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, then back at Arya, faces breaking into identical evil smirks. "What are we waiting for?"

They didn't wait for any reaction before sprinting off through the trees.

Arya felt her mouth drop open in disbelief, then shift into a grin. "What _are_ we waiting for? Last one there buys drinks!"

The four left took off after Merry and Pippin, the creatures forgotten by all but Arya. ' _This is not my world, but this_ _may just be_ _my pack now. I will protect them if it's the last thing I do.'_

And for the first time in ten years, she did not feel alone.

~o0o~

Night fell swiftly in the forest, and Arya slowed her pace as she waited for the Hobbits to catch up. They stumbled through the trees with Nymeria loping alongside them.

"Can... we... stop... please?" Sam wheezed.

The others nodded, too spent to open their mouths.

Arya was about to tell them to hurry up; the presence of evil was quickly becoming more pronounced by the second, but one look at Sam and Frodo's exhausted faces and shaking limbs was enough to change her mind. Merry and Pippin looked slightly better, but not by much.

Funnily enough, the ones least affected by the distance travelled were her and Nymeria, though they were the ones that had already been running for more than half the day.

Arya rubbed her forehead. "How much further is it to Bree?" she asked Frodo, ignoring the way he leaned on Nymeria and how he swallowed multiple times before answering.

"About an hour walking, Miss Arya, but at this rate more likely two hours. Unless you would magically appear to have a horse?"

Arya frowned at him for his attempt at sarcasm and was about to answer in the negative when her focus was distracted by two things.

One: Nymeria was no longer tiny.

Two: even in Braavos, she had heard tales of the King In The North riding a direwolf to battle.

Almost as if knowing exactly what Arya was thinking, Nymeria huffed in frustration. Slowly reaching out a hand to stroke Nymeria's coat, she approached the direwolf carefully.

"Please Nymeria, could you do this for me? We need to get to Bree and the Hobbits cannot run any further. We need you," Arya pleaded, gazing into Nymeria's intelligent golden gaze. The direwolf shook herself in distate, then grudgingly licked Arya's hand as if in acceptance. A small smile flitted across Arya's face before she scratched Nymeria's ears, a happy growl emerging from the direwolf. "Thank you, Nym."

"Miss Arya? What exactly are you planning?" Concern was apparent in his voice when Frodo spoke, captivated by the exchange between creature and elf.

Arya turned to him, pride on her face. "I don't have a horse. But I've got a direwolf."

Merry stepped forward then. "Excuse me for stating this, but I don't quite see where this is going?"

"Come closer, Merry, and you will see." The sly smile on her face was enough to send all the Hobbits stepping backwards, including Frodo. They exchanged glances, all agreeing that the strange lady had gone crazy.

But Sam was the first to sigh in resignation and step forward to Arya and Nymeria. He consoled himself with the thought that there was probably no danger in whatever she wanted to try.

Probably.

He was not prepared for Arya to suddenly hoist him into the air and onto Nymeria's back.

As soon as he realised that he was on the direwolf he froze, grabbing the fur and ever so softly starting to whimper, not taking his eyes off the direwolf.

He felt a warm hand cover one of his, and heard Arya speak. "She will not hurt you, so have nothing to fear. Nymeria will carry you well." Sam managed to calm down a bit, enough to hear Nymeria's playful yip.

"Frodo, you next!"

And in this manner the four Hobbits found themselves sitting on Nymeria, careful to hold onto each other in order to stay on her back.

Arya stepped back, surveyed her handiwork, and burst into fits of laughter.

Laughter which stopped when Nymeria started to snarl unexpectedly, a sound of rage and fear and defiance. They all felt it then, the presence of the creatures from before, accompanied by the screeching that continued to get ever closer.

Arya felt the fear spread through the Hobbits, yet her determination only grew in response.

"Nymeria, run! Sam, which way? Never mind, just run!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 4**

Arya focused on her breathing, each breath feeling as though her lungs were being torn apart as her feet pounded on the earth in a steady rhythm.

 _'Good thing Nymeria's here or they would have caught us by now,'_ she thought, risking a glance to where Nymeria was flat out sprinting with the four Hobbits on her back. ' _Thank the gods that she has grown so big. So much I have missed though... Enough! I cannot think about the past now, it is the present that matters!'_

She ran on, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts of death and darkness, and forcing herself to run even faster.

The sound of Sam shouting instructions to Nymeria was endearing though; Arya was glad the Hobbits had taken a liking to the direwolf. Many 'braver' men would have run away screaming, seeing Nymeria as only a beast, and a prize once killed.

The screeching noise was getting louder, forcing Merry to wildly scan the landscape behind him, loosening his grip enough to be in danger of falling off at the wild pace Nymeria was taking.

Arya glanced back for a second and then went back to sprinting like all the demons in Old Nan's stories were after her. Which they kind of were, with those black robes and demonic steeds, not more than a hundred paces behind them. She vaulted over a fallen tree trunk and drew alongside Nymeria and the Hobbits.

"Sam, how much longer?!" she screamed in between breaths. Sam's face was pale, but gained a smile when he looked ahead.

"We're at the edge of the forest, there's a river, see, we'll be able to cross soon!" he yelled joyfully, taking in the wide expanse of shimmering moonlit water.

"Look, Buckleberry Ferry!" Pippin called out excitedly, gesturing ahead wildly.

Too wildly.

The momentum caused his arm to crash into Frodo, effectively shoving the little Hobbit from Nymeria.

He hit the ground with a thump and a cry of pain.

Nymeria would have stopped had she not had three other Hobbits on her back. Instead, she dodged the last tree and bounded right onto the ferry, leaving Arya to slam down on her knees next to Frodo.

The moan issued from his mouth wasn't the best of sounds, but at least he was alive, giving Arya leave to drag him up and shove him forwards, only to stop at the sight of one of those demons right in front of them.

Arya unsheathed Needle at once, though the fear spreading through her made her hands shake.

Suddenly the familiar words resounded through her head, calming her and stopping the shaking: _fear cuts deeper than swords._

She looked up to see the blade of the creature sweeping towards them.

"RUN! TO THE FERRY!" she screamed at Frodo, shoving him aside and ducking as the blade swept harmlessly overhead.

The thing struck again, this time with no time to move aside, so Arya relied on instinct, gracefully deflecting the black blade with Needle. The path of a waterdancer didn't include force – it used grace and speed to dance through the opponent's attacks and seize the opportunity to end life when it arose. Or, in this case, to run to the ferry that all the others, including Frodo, had now reached.

She was dimly aware of the others screaming at her to hurry up, but ignored their frantic cries as she focused solely on the monster in front of her. Arya twirled Needle, shifting her position so that she stood sideways on.

"Come on then," she hissed coldly, pointing Needle at the creature. It raised its blade and started its onslaught.

Block, slash, parry, sidestep. Weaving through the attacks and returning them gave Arya a feeling of fullness and accomplishment; it was just another foe that threatened to, but could not, harm her.

She was Needle; Needle was her.

They were one.

This was just another fight to win, then all the other fights that formed her life, and then the final fight with the Many Faced God at the very end.

"Arya, snap out of it!" The scream, accompanied by Nymeria's howl, was the very thing needed to bring Arya back to herself. Blinking the haze of bloodlust from her eyes, she noticed an opportunity to get through to her friends. She took it without hesitating and danced around the monster, then sprinted towards the ferry.

"Untie it, hurry!" Were her only words as she neared the others. A hundred paces, fifty paces, twenty.

The gap of water between the wood and the ground was widening rapidly, only just small enough for her to leap over with ease. The furious screeches behind her only spurred her on, as she was watched with wide eyes by the Hobbits and direwolf.

She jumped across just in time to avoid the blades behind her and though she stumbled on landing she remained upright as she regained her footing on the damp wood.

Arya straightened, then turned to spy three of the things turn left and gallop away across the riverbank. "Tell me, how far away is the nearest bridge or crossing?" she asked quickly.

Not hearing an answer, she turned around to find the Hobbits staring at her with open mouths and shining eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Arya snapped her hands in front of their noses. ' _That woke them up,'_ she thought smugly when they all went red and started stammering out their apologies, which she promptly waved away. "Former question, anyone?"

"It is twenty miles away, Miss Arya," Frodo announced. Relief swept over her; that was far away enough to give them a significant headstart, and one they would need. Hopefully measurements were the same here as in Westeros.

Pointing to the opposite bank with her right hand, she sheathed Needle with the other. "How far is that?"

Sam gave her a strange look, but was only too happy to answer as the cheery duo used the pole to push the raft across the water. "About twenty metres, Miss."

So the measurements were approximately the same; that gave them roughly three hours to get to the town of Bree and hide. Horses could only run so fast, afterall.

She stretched out her legs with a groan, then carefully walked over and sat by Nymeria's side as the direwolf lay panting on the ferry.

"It seems that you are the one to thank for getting the Hobbits here safely and unharmed. I thank you for all that you have done for them and me, Nym."

The direwolf huffed half-heartedly before dipping her tail into the river and flicking water onto Arya, who laughed. "I won't mention it then."

"Can she truly understand what you are telling her?'

Arya smiled at Frodo. "Look her in the eyes and tell me she doesn't."

Frodo followed her instructions, eyeing the unnatural intelligence in Nymeria's golden eyes warily, then turned back to her with understanding on his face. He opened his mouth to speak when the ferry stopped abruptly, sending them reeling back.

"Merry!" he cried out as he flailed to avoid falling in the river.

"What? It's not my fault you were ignoring the fact we were nearing the other bank!"

Sam pulled Frodo back as he tried to swipe at Merry, who had already disembarked and was now keeping a wary distance between the three of them, especially Frodo, who looked ready to blow his cool.

Arya stifled a laugh and jumped off the ferry with Nymeria right behind her, before turning to Pippin. "Bree. Left or right?"

"Left."

"Wonderful. Let's leave them to it, shall we?"

"As you wish, my lady. After you."

"Such a gentleman."

"I try, fair maiden. I try."

"Hey! Wait for us! Arya! Pippin! _Stop running_!"

~o0o~

"Who are yer?"

Arya eyed the gatekeeper with distate, and Nymeria growled. They did not like him one bit, with his face permanently fixed into a leer and the stink of wine in his breath. Harry Goatleaf he was called according to the Hobbits, who were now reqesting entry to Bree, and a more appropriate name couldn't have existed.

She watched as he was about to refuse them, when his gaze came to rest on her and he attempted to smile charmingly. "How did such a pretty thing come to travel with these Hobbits, now?"

She shuddered mentally, but forced a smile on her face. "I met them on the road while I was travelling. Unfortunately, it has been a rather long journey, and we are in dire need of a room to rest for the night." She smiled prettily at him. "I would be ever so thankful if we were let in."

Taking care to keep the disgust hidden, she kept smiling brightly as the gatekeeper grinned at her toothily, then disappeared behind the wood to unlock the bolts and open the gate.

That was the opportunity Sam needed to tug on her sleeve. "Miss Arya, what are you-"

"I am getting us into Bree, now hush. Remember, trust no one in this town." The clang of the metal hinges interrupted their conversation, followed by the squealing protest of the rusty hinges as the gate opened.

"Ladies first," Frodo muttered, warily observing as Arya glided past Goatleaf with a smile and nod of gratitude, Nymeria trailing behind. The rest of the Hobbits stumbled past with varying degrees of enthusiasm as they passed Goatleaf, who seemed oblivious as he stared after Arya's retreating form in the distance, then turned back to his job with a scowl.

~o0o~

" _This_ is the finest inn Bree has to offer?" Arya whispered to the Hobbits as they took their seats inside the stuffy and crowded room with a tankard of ale each, ignoring the stares the four Hobbits, elf and direwolf were attracting. "Sure, the ale is fantastic, but with all these lowlifes it wouldn't be my place of choice to meet with a friend."

The Hobbits all turned as one and glared at her.

Fingering her torn and dirty robe, she huffed in frustration and stood. "Be wary. I'm going to see if I can get some more appropriate clothes. Nymeria, stay and protect."

With these words she made her way to the counter, where the innkeeper stood. Arya knew without even trying to read the man that he was a good, kind hearted soul. ' _It's almost surprising that he manages such an inn. But as for the approach..._ _anxious, worried_ _girl would probably be best.'_

With this in mind, Arya came to the counter and smiled cautiously at Barliman Butterbur.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked, twisting her hands together and continuing to smile nervously at him. His eyes widened and he leant over the counter to look closer at the girl.

"What is it you want, lass?" Barliman boomed, not unkindly, drying his hands with a ragged towel.

Arya ducked her head, bringing a worried blush to her cheeks as she peeked up through her hair. "I hope it's not too much to ask, but would you know a place where I could get some more practical clothes? This dress is far too torn and heavy for travel."

The innkeeper frowned.

"I can pay, if you want," she added quickly, a look of worry making its way onto her face, which turned to relief when Barliman shook his head and laughed.

"Follow me," he boomed, making his way to an opening behind the counter and gesturing for her to follow.

Relief. She seemed to be feeling that a lot lately.

They walked through a dimly lit corridor and stopped in front of a door.

"In here ye will find all types of clothes in various shapes and sizes. Pick what ye like, and leave yer clothes folded behind the door, alright? Think of it as an exchange."

Arya feigned a laugh of joy, hands clasping in front of her. "Thank you so much! You are very kind!" she gushed, before smiling one last time as she watched Barliman leave.

The smile fell from her face as he disappeared into the main room, turning to a scowl of revulsion at the part she had to play. "Never doing that again," were the last words she muttered before letting herself into the room which, to her joy, was full of black tunics, trousers and cloaks.

~o0o~

The shadow slipped through the room, ever-silent, ever-watchful, seeing all threats yet being seen by none, hidden in the very shadows circling the corners and edges.

Only a direwolf noticed her, its golden eyes seeming to look into the soul hidden by the body, before turning back to watch its charges.

The shadow looked towards them too, glad to see three sitting with their heads huddled together, speaking about a person named Gandalf.

Thanking the days of being blind for her marvellous hearing, the shadow noticed a stranger also listening in, his gaze never leaving the three Hobbits. Three Hobbits... but where was the fourth?

 _Calm as still water..._

There he was, drinking and talking, surrounded by men. The shadow strained its ears, and heard the name of Frodo Baggins being spoken. Dread began pooling in its stomach as Pippin pointed towards the Hobbit he had named, and the shadow cursed the Hobbit's loose mouth as several of the men suddenly mobbed Frodo.

The shadow watched silently as the direwolf defended the Hobbit, which was more than it itself could do just yet; bringing attention to itself was nothing more than inviting the Many Faced God to come and find it.

Still, it remained ready to intervene should the Hobbits truly find themselves in a life-threatening situation, its inbuilt instinct telling the shadow to wait and observe.

The direwolf kept the men away for a while, snarling at the men while shielding the Hobbits with her body, but some made it past her and reached for Frodo. The direwolf tore a man's arm apart, the scarlet blood gushing out, but the damage was done by then.

The shadow couldn't believe its eyes when it saw the ring from before land on Frodo's finger and the Hobbit vanished from sight instantly.

Fortunately for them, the men left the remaining Hobbits alone after they beheld the snarling direwolf with blood dripping from her fangs, and had gazed upon the screaming man whose arm had been ravaged.

Movement caught the shadow's eye, and it shifted in the darkness to see the strange man from before shove Frodo against the wall, then drag him up the stairs in the corner of the room. _Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow._

The shadow took off after them, taking care to stick to the darkness created by the flickering candlelight of the inn. It noted that the strange man did not wish to be noticed, his furtive glances behind him only confirming the suspicion, though the way he carried Frodo did not speak of a desire to cause harm.

Some of its fears vanished, though many more remained. The old wooden stairs didn't even creak under its weight, and the man was not looking back any more, so it did not have to worry about being seen.

 _'At least the others are safe with Nymeria,'_ the shadow thought, pausing to wait for the man to open a door and step through, before slipping in as well the split second his back was turned as he set Frodo down.

There were plenty of hiding places in the room filled with darkness, and the shadow chose the corner where the light from a tiny flickering flame in a small lantern could not reach.

No one noticed the shadow's presence.

The clicking of the lock seemed louder than usual in the quiet of the room. Frodo's fear was obvious as he faced the stranger, whose stance spoke of anger and caution, though there was a faint undercurrent of anxiousness as well.

And the shadow waited, ready for a fight if the man so much as turned a hair on Frodo's head the wrong way.

One thing it was not prepared for, however, was for the man to take his hood off to reveal shoulder length black hair, stunning blue eyes and strong, rugged features.

Her breath caught in her throat. ' _Oh gods, he is handsome... Wait, what the seven hells did I just think?! I do NOT think about how men look!'_

Arya was shaken from her thoughts when the Frodo started to speak, albeit with fear. "What do you want?"

Her heart went out to the poor Hobbit who spoke bravely, even when confronted with a stranger who had just separated him from his companions, and decided that looks aside, she did not like the stranger one bit.

The stranger's answer was hurried and sharp as he checked the door was secure, then strode over to the grimy window the room contained. "A little more caution from you; that is no mere trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing-"

"Indeed." The stranger laughed, though not mockingly. "I can avoid being seen as I wish, but to disappear entirely: that is a rare gift."

Frodo straightened his back, trying desperately not to seem intimidated. "Who _are_ you?" he asked again.

The stranger didn't reply, instead choosing to study Frodo more intently. "Are you frightened?"

Arya and Frodo both were thrown slightly by the completely off-topic question. She glanced at Frodo. The answer was written clearly all over his face, so she didn't quite get what the man was hoping to achieve.

"Yes..." Frodo breathed.

"Not nearly frightened enough," the man cut him off, raising his eyebrows and turning back to the window. "I know what hunts you." This was said quietly, before the man turned on his heel and slowly stalked towards Frodo, an unreadable expression on his face.

Arya couldn't take it any longer – she drew Needle and slipped behind the stranger, enjoying the way Frodo's eyes widened upon noticing her but the man remained oblivious to the danger behind him.

Needle was at the man's throat in a heartbeat, angled and poised to spill blood. As the shock of cold steel against his flesh wore off, the man reached quickly for his sword.

"Don't even think about it," she snarled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 5**

A cool sneer made its way to her face as the stranger slowly moved his hand away from his sword. There was nothing as good as having the power to decide if a man was worth more dead or alive, especially when they were not even skilled enough to detect her.

Resting Needle against the man's throat, she met Frodo's gaze to see him freaked out and more than a little surprised, and sent him a small smile. "Are you alright, Frodo?"

He nodded, swallowing tightly.

 **SMASH**!

The door flew open, and in burst Sam, Merry and Pippin, each holding various pieces of furniture that doubled as weapons.

"Release Frodo!" Sam yelled, then stopped in surprise at the sight of Arya holding a sword to the stranger's throat.

Nymeria trotted in behind them, not looking all too bothered.

Surprisingly, the stranger chuckled. "You are stout of heart, Hobbits, but that won't save you."

Arya raised an eyebrow at him, then realised he couldn't see it anyway. She opted for a question. "And _you_ can, stranger?"

"If you release me, then yes."

Arya scoffed. "If you swear you will not lie or prove false, then yes." She could feel him sigh and roll his eyes.

"Your lack of faith is insulting, but for what it's worth, I swear I will not lie or prove false."

"Wonderful," Arya breathed before lifting Needle and shoving the man in a direction that was away from the Hobbits, quickly checking that her hood was still up.

He regained his footing and immediately went to draw his sword.

A sword that Arya now held in her right hand with Needle in her left, waving it at him teasingly. "A wise precaution, don't you think?"

He sighed and held up his hands in defeat, with his forehead creased in frustration. "Such a wise precaution indeed. Give my sword back."

"That wasn't very polite, was it?" she purred, inspecting the plain blade and hilt.

The man gritted his teeth together. "Please may I have my sword back?"

"Since you asked so nicely..."

The sword flashed as it spun through the air, only to be caught by the strange man. He smiled slowly, carefully running a hand down the blade, before snapping his sharp gaze back to Arya and the Hobbits (and the direwolf).

"Quickly. If you want to live, follow me. If not, wait here for death." He didn't wait for an answer before ushering them all out of the room and down a back staircase, though it didn't escape Arya's notice that he kept as far away from her as possible.

She sheathed Needle and rubbed the smirk off her face, careful to avoid lifting the hood of her cloak, and snapped her attention back to the poor Hobbits, who had no clue whatsoever of what was going on. Sam in particular looked completely lost, so she fell into pace beside him.

"Don't worry, alright? I'll explain what's going on later, once this _stranger,"_ she looked up to see the man listening, and swore she could see a flush of red on his cheeks before he turned away sharply, "finishes leading us to who-knows-where."

Sam still looked at her worriedly. "But, Miss A-"

"Do not name me," she broke in, shooting a glare to the man who was listening with perked ears.

Sam swallowed, before resuming what he had been about to say in a whisper. "Can we trust him?"

"Trust him? No way in all the seven hells. But what other choice do we have in this situation?"

Sam nodded slowly, before continuing on, lost in his own thoughts. Arya looked around to see that the man had stopped in front of a gnarled old door and motioned to them to proceed with caution, before putting his hood up and leading them across a street to an inn opposite.

~o0o~

The Hobbits, with the exception of Frodo, seemed glad to fall onto the stranger's bed and go to sleep straight away.

Arya, Frodo and the stranger were sat on chairs, facing each other in a silent stand-off.

The stranger broke first. "Who are you?"

The question was aimed at Arya, the stranger looking at her intently. Nymeria growled, golden eyes never leaving him. Arya frowned, but rubbed Nymeria's back soothingly, taking care to keep her voice expressionless. "You presume to have the right to know who I am without telling me who you are first?"

The man laughed. "My name is Strider, and I am a Ranger."

Arya's eyes narrowed. His demeanor was too casual and rehearsed, as though he had practised saying this many times. Add to that the slight defensiveness when he spoke about being a Ranger, whatever that was, and she was pretty sure it wasn't the full truth. A glance at Nymeria to see her baring her teeth also confirmed that it was only a half-truth.

Arya lifted a shoulder at the man. "You lie. Strider may be one of your names, but it is not your true one. Tell me, what other names do you bear? For I have many, and only one is true."

Strider sucked in a breath, then leaned closer, trying and failing to see under Arya's hood. Frodo looked between them, confusion and disbelief on his face, while Sam's soft snores echoed in the dim room.

"Never before have I met some one who has escaped my notice, held a knife to my throat and then told me outright that I lie when I say something many others have believed. Forgive me for wishing to know who you are, and please believe me when I say I would rather not reveal my true name." Having finished what he wanted to say, Strider leaned back with his arms folded, expectance written all over his stance.

Huffing in frustration, Arya made a decision; one that she would probably regret. _'Oh, well. I can always kill him later.'_

With her left hand, she lifted her hood, allowing Strider to see her features for the first time.

His reaction was the most hilarious thing she had seen since coming to this world. One of his legs jerked against the chair he was sitting on, effectively unbalancing and tipping him onto the grimy floor with a crash, while he shakenly spat out a few interesting curse-words.

He looked up, not even bothering to hide the shock he was feeling or attempting to get up. "You're a _girl?_!"

Arya glared at him coldly. "I hope it didn't take you too long to figure it out, though I doubt I'm young enough to be called a girl anymore. I mean, I didn't yell ' _you're a man'_ when I first saw your face. Call me Cat, and close your mouth, it's unnerving."

Strider's mouth shut with a snap, then opened again when he saw her tuck a strand of dark brown hair behind her pointed ear. "You're an _elf?!_ "

Arya had had enough.

She leapt to her feet, stalked over to Strider and slammed Needle's hilt into the chair above Strider's head, ignoring Frodo's shocked gasp, Nymeria snarling behind her. The man was too shocked to defend himself when she gripped his chin and brought his face far too close to hers, her frustration lending her the strength to practically snarl in his face. "I am sick and tired of men who cannot give straight answers and are good for nothing but exclaiming about things that are _obvious_ _and unnecessary_ \- !"

Her voice had risen to a shriek by that last part.

"Miss, please!" Frodo's exclamation from behind was enough to convince her to relinquish her hold on his face and stroll back to her chair, throwing herself down and crossing her legs.

She sullenly bowed her head to Frodo. "I apologise, little one."

Her temper was frightening even to herself, especially when at times, she _couldn't_ control the hatred and rage. Not that she was about to admit it, but it _frightened_ her. At least she hadn't killed anyone this time.

Strider looked at her in disbelief, hoisting himself up as though Arya hadn't just attacked him, rubbing his eyes to clear them. "Shouldn't you be apologising to _me_?"

"Not at all," Arya hissed at him, before redirecting her attention to Frodo. "Was there anything you wish to ask? I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate people using terms that I don't recognise and not explaining themselves."

Frodo nodded, cleared his throat and started to speak. "Are you aware that you are an elf?"

Arya raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean by elf; I have never heard that term before. I am perfectly human, after all."

Strider's frustrated laugh reached her ears, and she whipped her head around and glared at him.

Frodo coughed, then continued, no doubt eager to escape another clash between Arya and Strider. "It's basically the term for a race that is shaped like men, but different."

"I'm not following you. Are you telling me that there are such things as elves? And why do you say that I am one?" A feeling of suspicion washed over her, followed by panic and something that resembled resignation as Frodo and Strider exchanged glances, seemingly disagreeing on something.

"You tell her," Frodo whispered, eyeing Arya nervously.

"Are you crazy? She might look like a girl, but she'd kill me if I said something wrong. She might only hurt you a bit though," Strider hissed back.

"Excuse me, but I can hear you. And tell me what?" Frustration made its way through her thoughts, while Strider shrugged his shoulders and stood, placing a chair between him and Arya just in case.

"I don't know what world you're living in, but in this one, elves are real. They have pointy ears, incredible endurance, strength, immortality, plus other things I don't care to name."

Arya folded her hands together and straightened her back, lifting her chin in defiance. Nymeria snapped her jaws together from her seat next to Arya. "What does that have to do with me?" she asked flatly.

Frodo slowly approached her, then pointed at her ears. "Your ears are pointy. You ran for most of the day without needing a rest. The only reason you probably don't know already is because you were never in this world before."

Realisation dawned on Arya, before she slowly raised a hand and ran it over her ear. Suddenly finding it hard to draw breath, she repeated the action. And again. ' _Seven hells. My ears are pointy.'_

"Well, that's new." She looked up to see them both looking at her with pity. Her shock faded to anger, laced with grudging acceptance. ' _I might be an elf, but nobody looks at me with pity. Never!'_

"Nymeria, bite him!" she snarled, pointing at Strider. He looked at her disbelievingly, before backing up sharply as Nymeria leapt at him playfully.

"What did I do?" he yelled in panic, crashing around the room to avoid Nymeria's fangs, effectively waking up Sam, Merry and Pippin.

Arya looked at the scene - Strider dancing around to avoid the cheerful direwolf, Frodo jumping up and effectively getting in their way, the rest of the Hobbits huddling together to keep from catching anyone's attention – and burst out laughing. She couldn't help it.

"You look so stupid!" she gasped out inbetween giggles. "Okay, Nym, enough. I don't think _Strider_ appreciates so much exuberance."

Fortunately the direwolf listened and loped back to her side, though she looked reluctant to leave her prey.

Arya calmed herself down, though the sight of the dishevelled man didn't do much to help. "So, Strider, I _might be_ but probably _am not_ an elf. Back to the main topic though; who sent you, and why did you take Frodo?"

Strider ran a hand through his tousled hair, before glancing at the Hobbits, who were now listening intently. "Gandalf sent me in case he couldn't come in time. He warned me to look for two Hobbits, not four Hobbits and a _young elf_."

Arya rolled her eyes at the pointed pronunciation, but noted that Frodo looked like he knew exactly who Gandalf was, though she herself had never heard the name before.

Strider continued. "I took Frodo because he had drawn too much attention to himself. Though the blame is partly on the Hobbit who couldn't keep his mouth shut." The last part was aimed at Pippin, who paled slightly at the glare Strider was giving him, before he glanced back at Arya. "Quick question: you have a massive wolf named Nym?"

Arya glared at him. "Her name is Nymeria, and she is a direwolf, not a _massive_ wolf."

She would have thrown back a comment about how Nymeria could easily tear him apart piece by piece, but stopped herself when a feeling of something sinister suddenly came to her. Her gaze shifted to Nymeria, who had stiffened and was growling softly, and she stood and looked at Strider. "They are here."

A shrill screech accompanied her words.


	6. Chapter 6

**Lady of Wolves/Chapter 6**

They all gathered round the window to see the five monsters and their steeds gather outside of the Prancing Pony Inn and force their way in.

The Hobbits were all speechless with horror, while Strider's hand was on the hilt of his sword, eyes judging the movements of those things, though his face betrayed no emotions. ' _He's a warrior, through and through. When he's not being stupid, that is. Or a man. And so on.'_

Arya herself was still and silent, Nymeria beside her, both watching and analysing the monsters until they all forced their way into the inn opposite. She mentally breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to Strider.

"Do you know what those things are, and can they be defeated?" she asked softly, taking care to ensure the Hobbits couldn't hear the conversation. Nymeria growled quietly, seconding Arya.

Strider laughed without humour, not taking his gaze from the inn door. "They are the Nazgûl, more commonly known as the nine Ringwraiths. They were human kings once, but Sauron offered them each a ring of power which bound them to him, and now they are his most loyal servants. They are neither dead nor alive, so they cannot be killed, and the Ringwraiths can only be held off for a while, though fire helps somewhat. They are drawn to the Ring Frodo carries, and will ultimately find him."

Arya nodded her head slowly, though she didn't know who Sauron was or how Strider knew that Frodo carried a strange ring. "I know nothing about this world. I don't even know how I got here but it seems I will have to follow your lead for a while. Do you know of a place where Frodo and the others can be safe, if only for a short while?" Well, look at that. They could be civil to each other.

Strider nodded. "We will depart as soon as the Ringwraiths leave from here. Hopefully they won't be able to find us before we get to where we need to go."

The short pause after his words was broken by the angered screeching that seemed to tear through their very souls. The Hobbits paled even more, starting to shake with fear.

"Relax, little ones," Arya whispered soothingly to them, glad to see they regained some colour at her words. "They will not find us here. Probably." The last part was added under her breath.

It was strange how quickly she had grown to care for the strange creatures, even though she had known them for less than a day. They were so sweet and innocent, reminding her of Rickon. And Bran... before he fell.

 _'Not the time,'_ she told herself sternly. Movement outside caught her eye, and she held her breath as the Ringwraiths emerged in an enraged frenzy from the Prancing Pony, before saddling up and riding out of Bree.

Strider waited until they were out of sight, then snapped into action. "Everyone up! We leave now, before they realise we haven't left Bree yet!"

Sam seemed more willing to move than Merry or Pippin, which Arya found odd before she realised that the two Hobbits were petrified with fear. Grabbing their collars, she shook them a bit to get them moving. It worked wonderfully, with them jerking free and sprinting to the door before telling them in hushed whispers to hurry up.

Arya and Nymeria looked at one another once they were the only ones left in the room. "What have we gotten ourselves into now, Nym? We'd better hurry before they leave us here."

~o0o~

The journey was mostly uneventful, though Arya was fascinated by the world she found herself in. Unfortunately, the long silences while walking were filled with thoughts replaying over and over through her head. Thoughts about dying and coming to this new world, the fact her ears were pointy, the Hobbits and a million other things that worried her.

It was with this in mind that she asked Strider to tell her about this world and its history when they settled down for the nights. He obliged, regaling her and Nymeria with tales from Sauron, the dark lord, all the way to the dragon Smaug at Erebor, with the Hobbits chiming in from time to time to make sure Strider didn't leave anything out.

It quickly became routine after the first couple of days; they walked through the day, taking care not to leave tracks for the Ringwraiths. They then found a safe place to camp for the night, and passed some time talking about Middle Earth until the Hobbits started to fall asleep. It was always Arya or Strider taking the watch, as Strider was doubtful about the Hobbits' ability to keep watching and not run off somewhere.

Insulting as this may have been to them, it was countered by the fact that they were quickly becoming fast friends with the direwolf, and it was obvious that Nymeria loved them too. Even Strider had to admit that it was funny seeing an over-eager Nymeria drag the squealing Hobbits out of their bedrolls in the morning to lick them all over, then chase them around to help them wake up.

A fragile truce sprang up between Arya and Strider, helped by Frodo, who had no wish to see them acting like they did in Bree.

Sam was also forming bonds with Strider, Merry and Pippin following closely in his footsteps.

Unfortunately, Arya didn't wish to see beyond the percieved bad qualities in Strider, convinced as she was that all men were the same, and this didn't help their friendship at all.

This was overshadowed, however, by the urgency with which they travelled, always alert for the Ringwraiths, though thankfully the first six days of the journey passed with no sight or scent of them.

The seventh day wasn't so lucky.

~o0o~

"Remind me what this place is again," Arya huffed as Strider lead the way up a steep and rocky hillside in the dim half-time between evening and night.

He turned and waited for her and the Hobbits to catch up, Nymeria already waiting impatiently high above them.

Pointing up to the top of the hill, he smirked at her, amusement clear in his eyes. "Get to the top, and you'll see."

Arya, as usual, took it the wrong way and raised an eyebrow at him. "If you had eyes, you would see that for the Hobbits it is still about a half-hour's walk up there in the state they are in." Waving her hand behind her she drew Strider's attention to the Hobbits, who looked to be at the point of collapse. "You also seem to forget that it is practically dark right now, and there will be serious injuries if we continue up without the use of our eyes. But sure, by all means, let us get to the top and see," she finished sarcastically, glaring at Strider.

He looked at her disbelievingly, and with frustration too. "How did you ever get so... so _mouthy_?"

"How did you ever get so... so _stupid?'_ Arya mimicked back.

The Hobbits all groaned from behind.

"Here we go again." Without turning, Arya knew that it was Frodo.

"Can you please stop these arguments?" Definitely Sam.

"They are _so_ going to fight."

Arya grinned menacingly at Strider, before raising her voice. "Wonderful idea, Pippin. Any ideas on how I can destroy him utterly?"

She shifted into the position for hand to hand fighting, sideways on, hands curled in fists and raised in front of her face, knees bent slightly.

The sounds of the Hobbits settling down for the night behind her did nothing to block out Strider's snarl of agreement as he shifted into a similar stance.

"If you had money, who would you bet it on?" Merry asked from behind.

Another round of groans came, followed by the sound of Sam smacking Merry on the head.

Arya and Strider were too busy sizing each other up to notice, Arya noticing that Strider seemed confident in his ability to win, but hesitant. Almost as if he wanted to emphasise the thought, he shook his head in resignation and stepped back, folding his arms as he eyed Arya critically. "I refuse to fight against you."

"Why would that be?" she snapped, glaring at him, ignoring the frustration radiating out of him. "Afraid to fight against a young woman?"

He scoffed in disbelief. "I simply refuse to fight you for the sake of it. I know you see nothing but the percieved badness in me, biting at everything I say, and I have had enough. We have a mission, and for it to succeed we need to work together. This fighting will get us nowhere! If you cannot see that, cannot stop attacking me in this way, then I have to question whether you can actually see past yourself long enough to recognise the danger you are putting the Hobbits in!"

Strider saw the way Arya's face had gone white, and seemed to realise he had gone too far. Behind Arya, the Hobbits were looking at him with shock, eyes wide open as they looked between the two.

For Strider, there was no mistaking the hurt and anger Arya spoke with next.

"How dare you?" she snarled, the darkness in her rising to the top of her mind. "How dare you think I would put them in danger? You have no idea who I am, and you accuse me of this?"

Her fist collided with his face too fast for either of them to stop it. His head jerked back, and he uttered a soft curse as he grabbed her hands to prevent her doing it again.

Pulling her hands out of his grasp, Arya slipped to the side and prepared to punch him again.

She stopped just before her fist could connect with his head for the second time.

Horrified at her loss of control, she backed away, features a mask of stone.

Strider just stood there, looking at her with no intention of continuing the fight. It had always been easy for him to recognise the traits of one who was trying to run from the past. "We need to talk about this."

"We do," Arya agreed quietly. "But not now. As soon as we get to safety, we need to discuss what happened. But rest assured, I do not wish the Hobbits any harm. I am going to hunt, and you should too." Having said this, she turned and vanished from his sight into the blackness of the night, darting silently up the slope, finishing on the overhang under which the Hobbits had settled down.

Thanking the gods for the stealth she now had, and the way she blended into the shadows at night, Arya sat down to watch over the Hobbits as Strider turned and scanned their dark surroundings, before telling the Hobbits he would go hunting for food.

He disappeared almost as stealthily as she had.

Nymeria let out a short whine, then curled herself around the Hobbits as they began speaking in hushed whispers about what had happened. It failed to soothe her that they didn't blame her for what had happened, but thought that Strider had a point about her temper.

Merry's exclamation hurt the most though: "I still can't believe she would just leave us like that!"

Making a split-second decision, Arya jumped from the overhang and landed beside Frodo, quiet as a cat, before clearing her throat.

As all the Hobbits snapped their gazes to where she stood, she raised an eyebrow at them all. "Nice to see the faith you have in me."

She half-heartedly waved away their apologies, and seated herself by Nymeria. "I know my temper is bad. I know that, yet I can't seem to do anything about it. Strider does have a point, but I would never abandon you just like that."

The Hobbits looked at her in astonishment, Frodo daring to speak first. "But, Miss Arya – I mean Cat – weren't you going to hunt?"

Arya sighed and looked down to where he was huddled in his bedroll. "I have no doubt that Strider will manage to get enough food for us all, even counting the tremendous appetites Merry and Pippin have."

A strangled cough was issued from one of the Hobbits she had named. "We do not have tremendous appetites! We just... like food a lot?" Pippin defended himself, earning a shove from Sam.

Arya laughed, a happy sound that carried on the wind, before becoming serious once more. "Back to the topic. I didn't go hunting; I was on the ledge right above. You really do need to be more aware of your surroundings. Sleep now, and I will keep watch."

She smiled at Frodo, glad to see he smiled back. A thought struck her and she frowned. ' _Wait... it's supposed to dark, so how can I see Frodo's face so well?'_

Arya snapped her head up to see Merry and Pippin starting to toast sausages over a small spark of flame, which they had to have just started.

Horror seized her and she jolted up, her long legs carrying her easily to the two Hobbits. She fell on her knees and started frantically putting the fire out.

"Fools!" she hissed at the two who were staring at her in confusion and hurt, but at the moment she couldn't bring herself to care. "We are on a hillside where anyone can see a light for miles around, and you build a fire! There is a reason no fires have been lit during this journey." Arya finally managed to get the flame out, before standing up and letting her eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. "Everyone up! We need to move before-"

A shrill screech echoed around the hill, bringing with it the familiar sense of evil. Nymeria started growling again, fur bristling. The Hobbits wasted no time scrambling up and packing their things before looking at Arya, whose face went grim.

The Ringwraiths were back.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Lady of Wolves/Chapter 7_**

They wasted no time running up the hillside to the very top, relying on Nymeria and Arya's keen eyes to keep from blundering into rocks or slipping on loose pebbles, the screeches of the Ringwraiths never too far behind.

"Keep moving!" Arya yelled at Sam, who was struggling to keep up.

He shook his head wildly and forced his legs to move faster, unaware of the bushes he was about to run into. Terror gripped her as his pack snagged on a small bush, pulling Sam back and sending him crashing to the floor.

Frodo gasped at the sight of his friend lying there and made to run back but was dragged away by Merry and Pippin at Arya's sign.

Meanwhile Arya had made her way back to the Hobbit, and drew Needle to cut through the branch holding Sam. She hauled him to his feet and shoved him forward, looking back to see the Ringwraiths steadily drawing closer, having abandoned their mounts to climb up after them.

Nymeria howled from the top of the hill a moment later, signalling that all the Hobbits were now with her. Thankful for the somewhat good news, Arya spied a cluster of rocks a little way ahead. Making a decision, she ran towards them, and launched a flying kick at the one in the middle.

With an ominous crunching noise, the rocks loosened and started to roll down the slope, gathering speed and moving other rocks as well, until a large landslide had formed. Arya smiled in satisfaction as the Ringwraiths tried in vain to avoid the harmful mass of rocks falling toward them, then turned and sprinted up after the Hobbits.

She scanned her surroundings as soon as she reached the top, and was grateful to see a crumbling ruin through the darkness.

"Towards the ruins! Hurry!" she commanded, shoving the Hobbits before her.

They ran in a wild panic, Nymeria flying ahead, howling loudly, no doubt calling Strider to come to their aid. Arya herded the Hobbits through an arched doorway into a large circular space that had been a spacious room once, though now missing most of the walls and the entire roof. Around the edges rocks were piled, with crumbling arches looking out over the black countryside.

The Hobbits drew the small swords Strider had given them.

"Hobbits, stand strong! Keep the stones to your backs and stay behind me and Nymeria!"

No more needed to be said. Arya closed her eyes and focused on her surroundings, breathing and waiting for the Ringwraiths to come to her. The familiar chant she had learnt swirled through her mind.

 _Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow._

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

 _Quick as a snake. Calm as still water._

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

 _Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine._

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

 _The man who fears losing has already lost._

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

 **Fear cuts deeper than swords.**

The shadow opened its eyes to see the Ringwraiths gathering around it.

Needle was drawn slowly, the scrape of metal against leather echoed as the Ringwraiths also drew their swords, their black robes concealing their faces well. The shadow heard the sharp intakes of breath behind it as the Hobbits drew away from the otherwordly presence of evil the monsters gave off.

Pointing Needle at the creature in the middle, the shadow smiled. "Who will be first?"

They didn't speak.

They just charged at her.

The shadow ducked under one blade and deflected another. It kicked one's legs out from beneath him, then took the opportunity to thrust Needle into his neck as he fell.

Had it been able to feel anything at all, the shadow would have been frozen with fear as the one it had stabbed got up again, not affected at all by the steel that went through his throat.

The familiar dance of swords and death made its rhythm known, the shadow's steps falling back into the pattern of moves it had learnt under the Kindly One.

But even though the shadow was one of the best, it was badly outnumbered by the Ringwraiths that couldn't be harmed.

The clash of steel on steel did nothing to reassure the four Hobbits who were behind the girl and the direwolf.

They watched in fear as Arya fought the hooded creatures, only just slipping away in time to prevent being hit, landing blows and moving faster than they had ever seen anyone move before, but still the Hobbits knew that she was dangerously close to being overwhelmed.

Nymeria also fought bravely, throwing the Ringwraiths off balance and tearing at them with her teeth and claws, though they made no marks on the monsters.

Frodo in particular was deeply affected by the presence of the Ringwraiths. He felt the familiar, irresistable urge of the darkness from the Ring.

 _'Put me on,'_ it whispered, _'put me on and let me have my master back, and Sauron will spare you.'_

Frodo felt the hold the Ring had on him tighten as the Ringwraiths steadily pushed the Arya back, though she kept fighting bravely. His hands started to move by themselves as Frodo found himself ensnared in the Ring's power.

And he put the Ring on.

A veil settled over his vision, white mist obscuring reality and warping it to change his perception of the world.

The Ringwraiths became white spectres with faces of long-forgotten kings, ghostly white swords striking at a grey direwolf – Nymeria, he thought befuddledly - and a grey shadow, challenging the Ringwraiths with snarls that spoke of hatred and strength. The Ringwraiths were more than a match for them though, as they swarmed the grey direwolf and knocked it off its feet.

A searing pain tore through Frodo, sending him to his knees as the Ringwraiths made it past and came closer and closer. He saw them push Sam aside as he tried to fight, then throw Merry and Pippin to the floor and hold their swords over them.

Frodo tried to scream but found his voice choked by the power of the Ring.

In a flash, Nymeria came to the rescue of the Hobbits, followed by the grey shadow, whose form shimmered, then changed into a silver direwolf with a black crown on its head, golden eyes glowing, standing over the fallen Hobbits and defending them from the Ringwraiths.

A white light drew his attention, and Frodo watched in horror as another Ringwraith came towards him, eyes drawn to the Ring that was glowing golden on Frodo's finger. It stretched a hand towards him, another wave of pain washing over Frodo.

~o0o~

Arya glanced up from where she was fighting four of the Ringwraiths, and sucked in a sharp breath of horror as the fifth stretched a hand to empty space.

Empty space where she and Nymeria could still sense Frodo's presence.

"Go, Nym! To Frodo!" Arya yelled at Nymeria desperately.

The direwolf heard and ran in Frodo's direction, but the remaining Ringwraiths formed a wall, preventing Nymeria from getting to the Hobbit. Arya's spirit sank in despair as she saw the creature draw its sword and stab Frodo in the shoulder, and she renewed her efforts to get past the monsters, heart clenching at the sound of Frodo's pain-filled scream.

She was ready to give up all hope for Frodo when she sensed a new presence on the ruined walls.

Strider.

Her dread turned to hope when he dropped in front of Frodo and engaged the Ringwraith, holding his sword in his right hand and brandishing a burning branch in the other. He dragged the branch against the black robes of the Ringwraith, face breaking into a smirk as it burst into flames and started shrieking in agony.

Shoving it away, he ran over to where the rest of the Ringwraiths were attacking Arya, and set them ablaze one by one, their demonic screeching slowly fading as they fled from the fire.

Arya wasted no time shoving past him when the last one had disappeared and falling to her knees beside Frodo, who had managed to take the Ring off when Strider came to their rescue.

Noting the fear in his eyes and panting breaths, she carefully cut away part of his tunic to inspect the wound.

She couldn't deny that the wound was _wrong_ somehow, in a way she'd never seen before; it was quite deep, but her main concern were the traces of black in Frodo's veins and the faint aura of malevolent evil it held.

Strider knelt on the opposite side of Frodo after ensuring the other Hobbits were safe.

"I have seen many poisons and injuries in my time, but never before have I seen something like this," Arya whispered, having no doubt that Strider could hear her.

"This is a wound caused by a Morgul blade, and it is impossible for us to heal." Strider's words echoed in Arya's head, and she looked up at him, eyes filled with worry.

"But," he continued, seeing the expression on her face, "we can slow the poison down to get Frodo to someone who **can** heal him."

Arya stood abruptly. "What are we waiting for then? Nymeria will carry Frodo and you will show us where to go."

Strider nodded and gently lifted Frodo onto Nymeria, who had come directly to him and knelt to make it easier for him to place Frodo on her back.

When that was finished, Strider turned to the Hobbits. "Do any of you know what Athelas is?"

They all gave him blank looks. He hissed through his teeth in exasperation. "Kingsfoil?"

Sam stepped forward bravely and nodded. "A white weed, I know of it."

Strider continued. "Cat will go with you to try and find it while I take Frodo to safety." He then looked at Arya. "I assume that you can track?"

She scoffed, trying to hide her fear for Frodo, and walked away, Sam trailing behind her. "You, Strider, insult me with your very presence. Nymeria, if anything happens, protect the Hobbits and leave him to die."

An affirmative growl reached her ears and Arya smirked to hide her worry, waving Sam in front of her. "Lead the way, young Hobbit, and let's hope we find this Athelas."


	8. Chapter 8

**_Lady of Wolves/Chapter 8_**

"I've found it!" Sam's joyful yell called Arya to his side straight away.

She snatched up the plant he held triumphantly in his fist, inspecting and sniffing its pale white leaves in the waning light of the moon.

"Are you sure this is it?"

"As sure as sure can be!" Sam squealed joyfully, before remembering exactly why they needed the Athelas.

Arya patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Come now, little Hobbit, do not despair. We need to hurry if we wish to save Frodo," she reassured, turning away from Sam's devastated expression and taking off back the way they had come.

The sound of his following footsteps convinced her not to look back, and Arya scanned the dark forest around them, effortlessly picking up the trail they had made to get there. Her wolf side took over and her gait changed, turning from an unsteady jog to a smooth, soundless lope. Sam's panting breaths and crashing behind were offputting however, and Arya mentally reviewed all that she had to teach him on being quick, and more importantly, _silent._

They ran for a long time, Sam steadily lagging behind and becoming even louder, if that were possible. Arya snapped her teeth in frustration. They had reached the ruins two hours back, and were now less than an hour's run away from Strider and the others. Arya wasn't even breathing hard, but Sam was a different matter entirely.

To demonstrate just how different the matter was, the sounds of him collapsing behind her jerked Arya to a stop.

His strained voice floated up to her ears. "Miss Arya, I am so sorry, but I can't possibly run any longer. May we stop and rest awhile?"

Arya sighed and turned back to see his face bright red and his chest heaving as he lay sprawled upon the dirty ground, eyes pleading with her to let him rest. Arya's arguments died on her tongue with him looking like a dying puppy. She couldn't find it within herself to push him to run faster, even if she felt completely refreshed by the slow and steady pace they had been running.

 _'Another thing I can't remember from my time in Braavos,'_ Arya thought wistfully, but didn't allow the thoughts of the other world to form, chasing them away as a wolf chases rabbits.

She gave no warning as she knelt next to Sam, scooped him up with ease and slung him over her shoulder and sprinted off after the tracks. His muffled squeak of protest didn't stop her, but spurred Arya to run even faster, although it felt like a ton of rocks had settled on her shoulders and pushed her down into the earth.

"You need to eat less," was her only remark as she ran like the wind. "Had you weighed a bit more, I doubt I'd have succeeded in dragging you, let alone carrying you."

Nothing more was said as Arya ran, except Sam's pants of shock and the steady increase of her breathing.

~o0o~

They came onto Strider's party just as Arya was on the point of collapse; it wasn't easy running for more than an hour with a rather tubby Hobbit over her shoulder.

Nymeria's yip of greeting alerted the others to her presence, and straightaway Arya saw that Frodo's situatrion was even worse than it was some five hours ago.

She dropped Sam, muscles screaming in relief, and was next to Nymeria and Frodo in seconds, hand checking his temperature. Finding it to be much warmer than it should have been, combined with the pallor of his skin, Arya knew Frodo didn't have much time left.

Stepping back, her legs nearly collapsed under her from the strain of carrying Sam. She would have fallen, lungs burning and red-faced from the exertion, had a strong arm not wrapped itself around her waist and brought her to rest against a solid and warm body.

Strider had come to her side in an instant to support her and keep her upright, noting worriedly how the young woman tried to push him away.

 _'She doesn't trust me,'_ he thought sadly, catching sight of the distrust in Arya's eyes.

He glared at Sam, who had the decency to look embarressed after however long Arya had carried him. ' _She doesn't trust me, and probably never will. Not after I_ _insulted her, brought up painful memories and then abandoned them to the Ringwraiths_ _. I wonder how she would feel if she knew that I used the opportunity to observe her and the Hobbits, instead of trying to hunt as she thought I did.'_

He slowly removed his arm.

Arya backed off immediately, hands clenched into fists, angry grey eyes reflecting the swirling storm clouds seen through the canopy of the dark forest.

"How dare you?" she hissed sharply.

The Hobbits watched the two worriedly, even Frodo managing to gaze at them through the haze of pain he was in on Nymeria's back. Sam tried to step between the two as Arya glared at the Ranger, whose eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, but Merry and Pippin held him back.

Strider held up his hands placatingly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quietly, hurt clear on his face. "Am I not allowed to help you, even if it is help that you need?"

Arya scoffed at him, disbelief evident on her feaures, though she was struck slightly by the hurt he displayed. "I do not appreciate it when someone mistakenly believes they can just handle me as they please. Especially when it is someone whom I do not know, like or trust!"

Strider tilted his head at her, seemingly oblivious to her anger and annoyance. He folded his hands in front of himself as he asked her softly, "Why do you not trust me, Arya?"

 _'Oh gods. How does he know my name?'_

Arya raised an eyebrow at him, struggling to keep her face blank. She couldn't believe he knew her name, as it made everything so much worse. No matter that her last name was still secret.

She briefly entertained the idea of lying, but the shocked faces of the Hobbits behind her wouldn't help her case. And the way Strider said it, Arya didn't think he would believe a lie.

"How?" she demanded instead, voice icily calm.

It was not until Strider stepped back into a defensive position, hand going to the hilt of his sword, that Arya realised she had drawn Needle.

Nymeria huffed in warning, but Arya didn't hear, clouded as she was in that state of mindless rage and fear. The dry twigs snapped under her feet as she stalked at Strider.

He drew in a resigned breath, then straightened in defiance. "I was there when you said it."

 _That_ stopped Arya, and she tensed where she stood, less than five paces away from Strider. "Explain," she snapped, keeping Needle pointed at the man before her.

Strider lifted a shoulder, keeping his piercing eyes locked on Arya's grey, stormy ones. "When you thought I had gone to hunt, I waited to see if you would come back, as I am not so clueless as to leave four Hobbits alone in a hostile environment. Once you returned, I left, but not before hearing some information about all of you, things I would not have learned otherwise."

 _'Such as my name,'_ Arya thought, half-angry and half-impressed.

He continued, keeping a wary eye on the elf he now knew as Arya. "Though if I could ask, did you really think me so stupid as to leave you all without thinking to ensure you were safe?"

"Yes," Arya replied without the slightest hesitation, though her cheeks had coloured a little.

The man simply looked at her.

She straightened and glared back.

He simply looked.

And looked.

Arya shifted on her feet.

He kept looking.

It didn't take long before her resolve snapped. "Well, what am I supposed to think? A complete stranger comes up and hurts Frodo, then takes us off across the countryside with no explanation and a guarantee of a 'safe place', happily admits to spying on us and then manhandles me? For all I know you could be taking us to the very people who wish him harm!"

Aragorn simply stood there as she ranted at him. "You think it's fun, being dumped in a land that you never knew existed? I don't know this place, I don't how it works, and now I've been caught up in something that shouldn't even involve me, and I WANT TO GO HOME!"

She flicked her glare at the nearest tree, heartily wishing to burn it with her heated glare, her heart thumping painfully in her chest after her outburst.

"You have issues," Pippin stated warily.

"I know I do," she said defeatedly.

Sheathing Needle, she folded her arms and huffed in frustration before turning her gaze back to Strider, though the anger had dissipated.

She explained reluctantly. "All the men I have ever known believe themselves above all, greater and better than everyone else, hungry for power and glory." ' _Like Joffrey, like Tywin, like Littlefinger.'_ "I am sorry for believing the same about you, but trust has to be earned. Besides, how many people can trust in a false name?"

Arya smiled sadly at the understanding on Strider's face. ' _It's a pity I didn't apply that bit of wisdom to the Kindly Man.'_

Shifting to walk to poor Frodo, she didn't get far.

A firm but gentle hand pulled Arya back to face Strider, who had somehow silently closed the distance between them, and he hugged her.

She froze.

"What is this?" she asked uncomfortably.

"This is called a hug," he told her. "It is used to show support and to offer comfort to those who are upset."

"I am not - " she started.

"Yes, you are."

"... Fine."

Merry and Pippin looked at each other.

"Group hug!" they yelled enthusiastically and barrelled into them, pulling a nervous Sam along with them.

Arya tolerated it for five seconds. To be honest, she actually thought she deserved praise for that - it's not fun to be crushed by happy people. "Alright, enough, I need space!"

They broke apart at once, regaining their composure at the same time.

Arya glanced at Frodo, face paling as she beheld the state he was in. She turned to Aragorn again, who had been watching her with a considering look upon his face.

She rolled her eyes and tossed something at him, and he caught it easily.

Through his closed fist, the pearly sheen of the Athelas was clearly visible.

"Help Frodo," she told him imperiously, seating herself on the ground next to Nymeria. "And take that smile off your face. If it is one of approval, I don't want it, and if it is because of something else entirely, I still don't want to see it."

"Lying is bad for you."

"Tough."

He paused. "We are talking about this later. Understand?"

"What if I refuse to talk about it?" she snapped suddenly. No way was she telling a complete stranger what had happened to her -

"My name is Aragorn."

Blink. Another blink. Then - "What I tell you is never going to be repeated to anyone else, ever." She glared at him, while mentally cursing her mouth's stupid tendency to speak before she thought about what she was going to say. "Frodo is still dying."

The man wasted no time getting to Frodo's side, gently lowering him off Nymeria, and placing him on the leaf-strewn ground. Taking a pestle and mortar from a pouch held on his thick black belt, Aragorn began to crush the Athelas while Arya hovered around nervously and the Hobbits whispered fearfully among themselves. Meanwhile the Athelas was crushed into a sweet-smelling, light grey pulp, and Aragorn took some and carefully spread it over Frodo's wound.

Slowly and steadily, the inky blackness began to recede from the Hobbit's veins.

None of them expected him to start suddenly writhing around in pain, screaming as if he was witnessing the worst horrors of the world. Arya pounced immediately, grabbing his arms and pinning Frodo down, while Aragorn took the legs.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" he yelled to Arya over Frodo's shouts, eyes reflecting his panic. "Frodo needs proper medicine. _Elvish_ medicine, and we are still five days away!"

That was a perfect sign for a horse and rider to gallop into the clearing.

Their beauty took Arya's breath away. The horse was a pure, diamond white, with a coat of fresh-fallen snow and hooves of the clearest ice.

Whinnying softly, it shook its crystal waves of mane and swished its long, shimmering tail as it danced to a halt before them.

The horse, however, was nothing compared to the beauty that sat upon it.

A lush river of blackest night adorned her heavenly face, while lips as red as blood curved into a benign smile as crystalline blue eyes framed with long, delicate lashes sought out Aragorn. She dismounted with the grace and fluidity of water, her plain riding clothes contrasting with her beauty, hair swaying back to reveal two pointy ears.

Even Frodo's screams seemed to abate in her wake.

She glided to them and knelt by Frodo's side, ignoring Arya completely as she turned to Aragorn.

 **"The Hobbit needs help,"** she observed in a musical voice. **"I am glad I have found you, Aragorn, while there is still a chance for him to be healed."**

Aragorn replied with relief and joy clear to see upon his face, while Arya remained silent, weighing the risks and gains the lady presented, but also resenting the fact the elf was so plainly ignoring her. **"I am overjoyed to see you again, dear sister. Can you get him to your father, Arwen? I do not have the skills to heal a wound caused by a Morgul blade."**

Arwen nodded slowly, a snow-white hand drifting to Frodo's brow, who calmed at her touch.

Only then did she finally look towards Arya, eyebrow lifting in curiosity. **"I was not aware another would be joining you, brother."**

The way she said it reminded Arya of the insults her sister's empty-headed friends had always hissed after her.

Arya bristled inside, but took care not to show it as she calmly and somewhat sarcastically replied. **"Had you yourself been there, you would have known that it was he who joined us, not the other way around."**

Shock at her knowing the Elvish tongue turned to slight annoyance for Arwen and she rose gracefully, an angry twinkle in her eyes. **"And what would a mere girl be doing with the Hobbits?"**

 **"I'm an elf, actually,"** Arya commented dryly, lazily getting up to mimick Arwen's posture and indicating her own ears. She inclined her head to Aragorn, yet never once took her eyes of Arwen. **"I have him to thank for that, so if you have a problem, you can take it and shove it up your-"**

Aragorn interrupted them before they could find out just what Arya was planning to say. **"Alright, there is no need to argue, you can save that for later-"**

They spun around and hissed at him.

He backed up quickly; what no one had ever told him was how frightening females could be when they set their minds to it. Said females glanced at each other, then started laughing together at his reaction like they were lifelong friends.

 **"I believe I like you,** **l** **ady Arwen."**

 **"I don't doubt it,"** Arwen replied in kind as they smiled truly at each other, both feeling the bonds of their new friendship forming.

Aragorn glanced between them, threw his hands up in despair, then proceeded to lift Frodo to Arwen's horse while the two began to chat animatedly about the dull weather and the merits of riding clothes over dresses. In his exasperation, Aragorn almost let Frodo slip, but Sam was there to catch the Hobbit.

"What just happened there?" he asked Aragorn in a hushed whisper, Merry and Pippin having scrambled over as well in a hope for him to explain.

Glancing over his shoulder to see Arya tap Arwen's shoulder, both turned to look at him expectantly, grinning smugly at the exasperated scowl on his face. He didn't deign to answer, instead gruffly warning Arwen to beware the Nazgûl as he stepped away from her horse.

It obediently waited for its rider to mount, which she did without hesitation. Their goodbyes, however, were interrupted by Arya calling back Nymeria, who had vanished into the undergrowth just before they arrived.

It was a wonder Arwen and her horse didn't die from fright.

The horse reared immediately, front legs kicking out as the whites of its eyes were shown, whinnying shrilly. Fortunately Arwen brought him back under control, though her face had gone bone-white and it was with great strength of will that she didn't draw one of the daggers that Arya had seen were hidden in her boots.

"What is the meaning of this Warg?!" she asked tightly once she realised Nymeria wasn't about to kill her or anyone else.

Nymeria whined, ears flattened against her skull by the harshness of Arwen's words, while her tail tucked between her legs. Arya frowned at her new found friend, but knew her reaction was normal for seeing Nymeria, though calling her a Warg was unexpected.

"This is Nymeria. She will help to guard you on your journey to wherever you are going. And by the way, she is not going to kill you or eat you or any of that rubbish, and I doubt she is a Warg, whatever that is."

Arwen still didn't seem convinced, but she swallowed any words of retort when Aragorn confirmed what Arya said.

"It- _she_ had better not try anything on our journey. If she falls behind, I cannot wait for her. When we get to Rivendell, she will have to stay outside the walls." Arwen didn't wait for a reply as she spurred her horse into the forest, while Nymeria licked Arya's hand in farewell and bounded after them.

"That's that then," she muttered softly, watching as they disappeared from view, somehow feeling as though she was no longer herself.

The sudden loneliness and pain she was experiencing couldn't have been caused by Nymeria's departure, could it? It was said that there was a bond between the Stark children and their direwolves; she had heard enough tales of the Young Wolf changing into a direwolf to tear apart his foes, of the savage Northern army that rode wolves into battle, and other, darker tales.

Her own dreams of Nymeria when she was in the House of Black and White - she had put these down to longing for her family, even if she was certain those dreams had been truth, and she had run with Nymeria by starlight through dark woods with her smaller cousins by her side. But it was certainly true that one should always be with the other, as it was in the past and as it should always be, the human and the direwolf, side by side, feared by all and fearing no one.

Whatever it was, Arya wanted Nymeria back as quickly as possible, the one she could trust above all else, and who would be there for her, just like she was there when Arya came to this strange world, where Elves and Hobbits and darker things lived.

It was time to leave, at any rate, as from Aragorn she knew they still had five days travel ahead of them.

Speaking of Aragorn... he wasn't too bad, after all.

The moment from before unsettled her slightly, but she cast it out from her mind. From all the time she had spent in his company, he had never proved himself to be a threat or to seem to pose them any harm, only being calm, patient and willing to answer any question she may have had.

Now that she looked back, the only crimes he was guilty of was wishing to travel as fast as possible and being suspicious of her, all with good reason. After all, wasn't it only her that had been the provoking nuisance, causing him to lose his composure, when she had sensed that underneath it all, he was one of the few truly good men that could be found in any world?

Even when he had scared Frodo, she now realised that it was actually to make sure he understood how serious the situation was.

It was then that she realised just how ashamed of herself she felt.

A cough drew her attention, and she blinked, seeing Aragorn waving a hand in front of her face, a corner of his mouth curving in a smile.

 _'What..._ _o_ _h.'_ She had been staring at him. Cheeks flushing slightly in embaressment and shame, she turned away, while Merry and Pippin snickered behind her and Sam cuffed their heads, although he too was smirking.

"We should get going," Arya commanded, glaring at them all until the laughter died down and the Hobbits obediently picked themselves up and started walking in the direction Arwen and Nymeria had gone.

She sighed irritably when Aragorn made no attempt to move, watching her in amusement from where he was leaning against one of the gnarled old trees. "You do realise that includes you? Or are you just that thick-headed?"

That drew a laugh out of him as he pushed off with ease and strolled to where Arya was fuming, shifting around nervously as he came to her.

"You do realise we need someone to scout the path ahead? Or are you just that thick-headed? - OW!" The question was followed by a yelp of pain and his smile was wiped off his face as she kicked his shin. Hard.

Arya snarled at him and stalked off ahead in silent fury, breaking into a run as she passed the Hobbits and disappeared into the trees.

Leaving Aragorn staring after her, then at his foot. "Did she just do what I think she did..."

"I think she did," Pippin supplied helpfully.

Sam shook his head at them all. "You do realise that it is your own fault by provoking her?"

"As always, the voice of reason," Merry spoke sarcastically. "Let's go then, shall we?"

The Hobbits looked at each other, then in silent agreement began walking after Arya. Aragorn followed after, limping on his right foot. ' _That girl is strong,'_ he thought to himself, then grinned. ' _This should be interesting. I wonder what will happen when she meets Legolas...'_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"That... is beautiful," Arya whispered in awe as the sun rose over the majestic city of Rivendell.

The white marble blazed in the golden rays of light, shining with its own ethereal light.

She had never seen anything like it. Not Braavos, not King's Landing, and as much as she hated to admit it, not even Winterfell could compare.

"Paint it, the view'll last longer," Aragorn laughed as he ruffled her hair.

She batted his hand away without blinking, hoping to imprint the image on her mind forever. "I can't paint. Or draw."

"You can't?" he asked in surprise.

She shrugged listlessly. "It's kind of hard to do when you're blind."

When no reply came, she huffed irritably and turned around with reluctance, only to see Aragorn and the Hobbits staring at her in shock.

"What now?" she asked exasperatedly, gesturing to them all with a wave of her hand. "Why is it that whenever I say something, you all freeze and stare at me like that?"

"I wouldn't know, Miss Arya," Merry piped up. "I'm just following everyone else's example." He pointed at Aragorn, Pippin and Sam. "They're the ones responsible."

She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, and would have gone back to looking at Rivendell, but Sam spoke up. "You were _blind_."

"Yes," she sighed. "I was blind."

"What happened?" The growl in Aragorn's voice did not surprise her. Not one bit.

Arya cast her gaze across the beautiful city. "War happened. Death happened. Survival happened."

He gripped her chin and turned her face so he can look her in the eyes. "We are talking about this when we are safe. No oppositions, no violence, no lies. Understand?"

She saw the pain and determination in his eyes.

"I can't guarantee anything, but I will try," she said sincerely.

Something in his eyes flickered, but the determination didn't waver. He released her and moved away, just as the pad of heavy feet was heard and Nymeria rejoined them.

Of course, while Arya thought it was a reunion, Aragorn thought it was torture.

Not that she could blame him; Nymeria had grown, after all. It would be like having a horse jump on top of you and drool all over your face.

It still looked hilarious though.

Even Sam was on the ground shaking with laughter, as Aragorn tried to yell at Nymeria through a mouthful of dirty fur and the massive direwolf lying on top of him.

The direwolf in question yipped happily, tail wagging hard enough to send a gust of air swirling around Sam and Pippin.

"Get it – argh – get it off!"

Arya grinned ferally. "Nymeria is a _she._ "

"Ugh – fine! Get _her_ off! _Now_!"

She actually thought she could hear some bones crack. "Alright, Nym, off! He's useless if you break his bones!"

Nymeria whined sorrowfully, but complied, one paw at a time. Once Aragorn could breathe again, she laid her furry head on top of his chest and gave him the best puppy-eyes of all time.

He blinked.

"No, furball, I am not happy to see you," he asserted, staring up at the trees above him in an attempt to avoid seeing the broken heart he had caused.

Nymeria flicked an ear. When he still didn't look at her, she batted him with a paw. When that didn't work, she brought her head down on him with a thud, causing him to jolt upright and face her properly.

And then, once she had his full attention, the direwolf yawned right in his face, exposing a deadly-looking set of razor-sharp fangs, with the musty smell of raw meat on her breath.

"...And suddenly I am very happy to see you," he gritted out through clenched teeth, trying not to dwell on whichever poor animal that had become Nymeria's dinner.

In response, the direwolf planted a very wet and sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Am I supposed to feel grateful, upset or betrayed?" Arya murmered to Pippin, eyes dancing with laughter.

He glanced at her, eyes wide, before a similar expression fell upon his face. "And why would that be, fair lady?"

She sniffed in badly-faked snootiness. "I shall be grateful for not suffering such a cruel fate as a direwolf's breath, upset that the same direwolf has not even seen fit to greet me, and betrayed by the fact that I have been replaced in the afore-mentioned direwolf's eyes."

They both turned to look at the direwolf. Said direwolf was looking back.

"Pippin?" Arya muttered over to him.

"Yes, Miss Arya?" he muttered back, both not taking their eyes off Nymeria, who was rising and getting ready to spring.

"Direwolves can't climb trees."

Nymeria jumped at them, and they split and ran for cover.

Or rather, while Pippin was trying to drag himself up a spindly sapling, Arya was being crushed by the weight of an overgrown direwolf and the force of its enthusiastic licking.

"Nym! Bad wolf! Sit!"

Nymeria happily obeyed the last command, resting more than half of her weight on top of Arya, who groaned while trying to restrain her laughter. "I know, I love you too. Clever wolf." She hugged her direwolf. "I've missed you."

And it was true; now that Nymeria was back, the large aching hole in her heart had closed up slightly. Not healed completely, but enough to make her feel lighter and for the world to shine in brighter colours.

They got up, seeing Sam trying to coax Pippin down from the tree, and Aragorn stretching out his back.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," she said to him teasingly. "The ground's not even too hard."

He grimaced.

"Really?" he asked her, eyebrow raised. "You landed on dead leaves. I landed on thorns."

She scoffed, and opened her mouth to reply when Nymeria nudged her hand. Turning to look at the place where Aragorn fell, her eyes widened. "Ouch."

"I deserve more than 'ouch'," he stated flatly.

"Yes you do," Arya agreed at once. "Those thorns look huge."

"Your wolf seems entirely too pleased with herself."

"First of all, she's not a wolf," she corrected him as their party began to climb down the hill to get closer to Rivendell. "Nymeria's a direwolf. It's a big difference."

He turned a disbelieving eye on her. "The only big thing I see is Nymeria herself. Besides, you call her a wolf."

She ignored his remark as she navigated her way through a patch of trees with long, whip-like branches. "Secondly, she's not mine. We are companions, friends of a sort, but she is her own being. I can't order her to do anything, I can ask her to do some things but in the end it's ultimately her own choice if she decides to do them or not."

Aragorn grabbed one of the thin branches before it could slip from Arya's grip and hit her in the face. She nodded to him in gratitude and continued on. "Since we share this bond, she permits me to call her what others cannot. In this case, a wolf. If someone attempts that wihtout this connection, she will not be happy."

"So why does she not attack Aragorn? He's called her a wolf more than a couple of times," Sam said as he joined their conversation, the subject of which was also listening in with interest.

Arya frowned. "I think she likes you. Strangely enough."

"Why is that strange? Surely Nymeria likes enough people?" Aragorn asked curiously, steadying Merry as he slipped on a pile of soggy moss.

Her face creases. "No, she doesn't. She wasn't really the social type; the only people she got on well with were those that were truly good at heart. It was mostly my family and a few others, the rest of the direwolves, even Sansa -"

She froze.

Her world went still as she felt her heart break all over again. Father's beheading, her sister's screams, the scarlet blood dripping down Ice -

"Arya!"

She was snapped from it by Aragorn shaking her shoulders.

"Pull yourself together," he commanded, though she detected the underlying worry in his tone.

With a smooth movement, she slipped out from his grasp and made her way to Nymeria's side. The direwolf looked down at her with concern in her golden-eyed gaze.

Arya took a moment to centre herself, hands twisted in Nymeria's warm fur, building her emotional defences back up again with the help of some meditation exercises she had learned. She had forgotten to do them ever since she arrived in this world; they were some of the only things capable of keeping her unreasonable anger at bay, and maybe that was why she was lashing out.

Breathing in deeply, she turned to look at the others.

The Hobbits and Aragorn were discussing Rivendell loudly, obviously giving her some privacy to collect herself.

She rejoined them nervously, waiting for one or another to ask her about her small panic attack, but the questions never came.

Aragorn just looked her in the eye. "Later."

"Later," she agreed, and nothing more was said as they made their way to the gates of the great Elven city.

~o0o~

"Alright, here's the plan,"Aragorn stated as he stopped the group just before they entered Rivendell. "I am going to take you to Lord Elrond. You are to show him respect, as he is a great elf, and he can explain about the Ring far better than I can. After all, he was there when Sauron was defeated last time. Any questions?"

Arya raised her hand.

He sighed. "Yes?"

"You know you told me that Sauron was defeated two thousand years ago, give or take?"

He gave her a long-suffering look. "Four thousand years, not two thousand."

"Either way, are you telling me that Elrond is four thousand years old? You weren't lying about that immortality thing?"

"I don't lie."

She looked at him blankly. "I don't want to live that long."

"I wouldn't mind," Merry muttered. "Can we please just go in? We haven't had breakfast yet, and I'm hungry."

As if on cue, the stomachs of all three Hobbits rumbled. They looked up at Arya and Nymeria sheepishly.

"You guys can go then," Arya remarked.

"But what about you?" Aragorn asked.

She turned to Nymeria and ran her hand through her thick fur. "Stay out here. Don't let them catch you."

Looking at the group, her facial features shifted into a mask of stone. "Don't try to find me; I'll find you."

With an agile movement, she dodged around them and ran right through the gates, leaving them gazing after her.

Aragorn was the first to regain himself.

"Wait!" he called after the disappearing figure, even though he knew it was futile. Shaking his head, he fixed all the Hobbits with a grim look. "We came here with no one. It is important. Do you all understand?"

They all nodded under his firm gaze.

He knew even before he looked that Nymeria had vanished into the woods as well.

~o0o~

It didn't take long for Arya to find a place to stay. It took even less for her to blend right in with the elves, listening to everything and using it to further understand the world she had entered. A few times each day, she found her way to the home of Arwen and her father Lord Elrond, figuring out how to navigate the place while occasionally looking in at Aragorn, the Hobbits, and an old man in grey whom she soon found was called Gandalf the Grey.

Unseen, of course.

Though she had a nagging feeling that the old man knew exactly when she was there and when she wasn't.

At other times, she hung about the marketplace, pretending to admire the wares while the elves gossiped away less than a few paces from her. All in all, she had learnt enough after two days to be seriously worried.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Should have put this before, but oh well. I own nothing from Tolkien, and nothing from Martin. Anything you recognise is theirs. Applies to every part of this story, and I won't put this up again.**

 **Chapter 10**

Frodo was wandering about the gardens when a hand grabbed him and hauled him into a clump of bushes.

He twisted, about to yell out for help when he caught sight of the face beneath the hooded cloak.

"Arya?!" he gasped out. "What -"

"Not now, I don't have time, I'll tell you later," she said in quick succession. "The Ring, do you still have it on you?"

"I do."

Arya's face shifted into one of deep concern. "Frodo, tell me, how bad is it?"

Frodo shrugged uneasily, looking away from the sincere grey eyes. "It whispers to me. Of _horrible_ things..."

Arya worded the next question carefully. "If the worst comes to the worst, how much longer do you think you will be able to keep it safe?"

"I don't know," he whispered, eyes wide with fear. "I don't want to fall prey to it."

"Then don't be afraid of your fear," Arya told him. "As long as it is there, the Ring has still not won over you. Once it is gone, however, _that_ is when you should truly be afraid."

The Hobbit nodded slowly. "I might hold out for about a month? Two? I'm not really sure, Miss Arya."

She sighed. "That's alright, Frodo. Go back to Sam, Merry and Pippin now, and give my congratulations to Bilbo for his eleventy-first nameday. I have an armoury to raid."

She was gone before he could blink.

~o0o~

Arya waited outside Arwen's window, well-concealed from any spying eyes, impatient for that elf servant to leave, and to leave now. She had to talk to Arwen in private - how was she supposed to do that while they laughed over dresses?

Irritably, she wiped her forehead to get rid of the sweat that had formed due to the over-bearing heat of the mid-day sun.

Her patience was finally rewarded when the brown-haired elf woman left, carrying a tray of half-eaten food.

Arwen elegantly placed herself in a chair in front of the mirror and began to brush her hair, preparing herself for the feast that was to be thrown in honour of the arrivals earlier that day.

" **So, what did you think of the dwarf**?" Arya asked casually as she swung herself in through the open window.

Arwen shrugged as she continued brushing her hair. " **I thought he was rude, loud and brash**."

" **Are you sure that isn't just the elvish prejudice speaking**?" Arya fell on the loud and comfy bed with a sigh of relief. " **To me, that guy with the brown hair and permanent frown seemed worse. Did you see how he ignored the guard telling him where to put his horse**?"

" **Don't you dare get that bed dirty** ," Arwen said instead, eyeing Arya's dirty clothes warily. " **Where have you even been the last few days? You have no idea how shocked I was when Aragorn told my father that it was only him and the Hobbits**."

Arya waved a hand lazily. **"I've been here and there, looking for information about this place. You have no idea how many gossips there are in this city. Why didn't you tell me your father was a lord**?"

" **I don't seem to recall you handing out personal information**." Arwen muttered in reply, going back to her hair brushing. " **Before you leave again, at least change into something clean and sensible**."

" **Can't do that** ," she replied cheerfully. **"I've only got the one set of clothes**."

" **What? But that's impossible!** " Arwen cried, tossing aside her hairbrush and swivelling to face Arya fully. " **You can't just live in those rags forever!** "

" **It's not like I have a choice** ," Arya admitted sheepishly. **"I don't have any money on me, and I'm not prepared to become a thief just yet**."

" **You should have asked** ," Arwen scolded as she stood from her seat and gracefully walked over to her wardrobe. " **You stink**."

" **Thank you so much for the compliment,** " Arya returned sarcastically. " **If you even try to give me a dress, I am leaving and not coming back.** "

Arwen just rolled her eyes. " **You and I both know that the note you slipped in my pocket telling me you would stop by later meant you had something important to talk about. When did you manage it, by the way? I only found it an hour ago**."

" **It was when you were looking around to see where your servant had disappeared to, by those yellow flowers. Remember that old woman with the covered face who walked into you and then apologised and hurried away?** "

From the faraway look in Arwen's eyes, she did indeed remember. " **How did you manage to make your voice sound so scratchy and rough**?"

Arya shrugged carelessly, getting up to peer at the clothes over Arwen's shoulders. **"I've had practice in imitating voices. I'll take that grey vest and those black trousers, they're not too bad**."

" **Are you sure**?" Arwen asked doubtfully. **"I've never worn them, they have such drab colours. Besides, I don't like trousers; there is more freedom in skirts.** "

Arya's smile grew even wider. " **So no one knows you have them**?"

" **Yes**?"

" **Perfect. Do you have a bath here somewhere**?"

 **"It's through that small door. And back to the subject, why did you want to talk with me**?"

Arya sighed, taking the clothes, along with fresh underwear, and walked over to the decorated door, snagging a towel on the way. **"I'll tell you after I've had a bath and changed**."

~o0o~

The bath was heavenly.

She washed quickly, ridding herself of the accumulated dirt on her skin, and steadily turning the bath-water muddy grey. It was with interest that she experimented with the different soaps, until necessity reminded her that anyone could walk into Arwen's rooms at anytime and discover her.

The new clothes felt so soft, after having worn raggedy remainders during her time with the Kindly Man. It was almost enough to make her understand the fascination of females with clothes. Almost being the key word.

~o0o~

" **You took ages** ," Arwen remarked from where she was putting the final touches to her hairstyle.

 **"It wasn't that long** ," Arya returned, making herself comfortable in a green armchair to the side of Arwen's seat. **"The bathwater is filthy, by the way, and I left my old clothes next to the tub.** **Try and pretend you fell into some mud while dancing through the gardens.** **Oh, and I spilt the liquid in that blue container-thingy. Sorry.** "

" **You certainly don't sound sorry,"** the elven lady muttered, wincing as Arya carelessly tossed her feet up onto the back of her chair. " **So, now that you've gone and cleaned up, I want answers**."

" **Actually, I was hoping you would have answers for me**."

" **Concerning what**?"

Arya's face darkened. " ** _Aragorn_**." She spat it out like a curse.

Arwen sighed. **"I see.** " She placed her hairbrush beside her mirror and turned to face Arya. **"Ask away**."

" **Why did no one tell me he was a king**?" she snarled angrily, leaning forward with her hands clenched into fists. " **And don't tell me you didn't know. It's deemed common knowledge in this city**."

" **He wouldn't have told you** ," Arwen said, suddenly sounding very tired and sad.

" **And why not**?" the Stark hissed, seething with betrayal.

 **"It's because he doesn't want to be the heir to the stupid throne**!" Arwen yelled suddenly, two angry red splotches appearing on her otherwise pale cheeks. " **Do not presume to know him! You really need an attitude check, because this barging into other peoples' business is unacceptable**!"

She slumped back into her chair, breathing heavily and staring Arya down. The younger held her gaze angrily for a long while, before looking away and exhaling softly.

" **I needed that** ," Arya said slowly, hands relaxing from the fists they were in. " **I'm sorry.** "

And it was true; she did feel bad at demanding to be told something that had nothing to do with her. That didn't mean she thought it wasn't necessary.

" **May I ask why you are so worried about this**?" Arwen questioned. " **Aragorn is a good man. He would never abuse his power if he ever assumes the crown, and it certainly looks like he never will**."

" **I knew a king once** ," Arya hissed lowly, eyes flashing with hatred. " **He was a boy-king, spoilt and pampered, who delighted in violence and the suffering of others. He was a monster in human skin**."

Arwen looked at her in dismay. " **How could you possibly know that? It may just have been rumours.** "

Arya laughed quietly, a vicious sound. " **It wasn't a rumour when he had my father beheaded in front of me for being an honourable man, and for knowing the truth about his parentage**."

" **What was his parentage**?" Arwen asked in spite of herself, trying to give herself time to absorb that the female in front of her had watched her father die.

" **He wasn't the king's son at all, and had no right to the throne. Instead, he was the bastard of the queen and her brother** **.** **A** **bastard-king, you could say, in every sense of the word.** "

" **Incest,"** Arwen breathed in horror.

Arya's lips twisted into a parody of a smirk. " **Aye."**

" **What about the king before him**?" Arwen asked desperately. " **The true king**?"

" **He** ** **w**** **asn't the true king at all. He had taken the throne through** **a** **rebellion, one which my father supported. By the time fifteen years had passed, he was an extremely fat drunk who hunted all day and whored all night**." A shadow passed over her face. " **He was killed by a boar when his own squire poisoned his wine on the queen's orders**."

" **And the line he usurped? What of them?** "

" **The** **Dragonlords** **, you mean?** **They ruled for three hundred years with their dragons, though the monsters died out soon enough. And t** **hey were mad. All of them. The** **son of the last king, the mad king,** **kidnapped the daughter of** **one of the greatest** **lord** **s** **, who was also the betrothed of the fat king, and shut her up in the Tower of Joy where he raped her to his heart's content. When her father rode to the capital with his heir to demand she be given back,** **the mad king** **had the lord burned alive while his son was strangled beneath him. It was that which lead to the rebellion.** "

Arwen looked white, like she would lose what was in her stomach. She looked at Arya in horror, who stared calmly back. " **The** **Dragonlords** **also married brother and sister to keep their line pure. It worked, but it also kept the madness in."**

Arwen got up and ran out of the room. Seconds later, Arya heard her throwing up in the bathroom.

~o0o~

" **So, what now**?" Arwen asked shakily as she nursed the cup of tea in her hands.

Arya shrugged. " **Tell me when all the lords are meeting. I want to be there**."

" **It** **i** **s going to be in about an hour, in the Council Room**."

 **"I know the place. Is it made of stone, arched windows open to the gardens?** "

" **Yes...** " Arwen drew out thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at the younger female. **"How do you know where it is**?"

Arya smiled innocently and sipped her own tea.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"You have only one choice." The words echoed heavily through the council room as Lord Elrond surveyed those gathered there. "The Ring must be destroyed."

No one dared to speak at the gravity of his tone, gazing at the Ring that lay on a table of stone in the middle of them all.

Gimli was the first to break the oppresive silence. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He stood up, gripping his axe, and brought it down hard on the Ring with a loud battle cry.

The axe shattered, throwing the dwarf back onto the stone floor, while a shooting pain tore through Frodo's head, whose cry of pain was overlooked by all others but Gandalf. In the Hobbit's mind, quick and fleeting thoughts were drowned out by the sudden whisper of a black and hideous voice in a dark and violent tongue.

It was broken through by the voice of Lord Elrond. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there can it be unmade." The lord's voice turned harsh and unforgiving. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

The black voice crept back into Frodo's mind.

The next words Elrond spoke were more ominous than any previous sentence. "One of you must do this."

There was again silence, until Boromir broke it with a self-assured air. "One does not simply walk into Mordor." He carried on with a long description of the horrors that land held, and none dared interrupt him. though more than one was wondering if the man found it enjoyable to frighten others.

Legolas couldn't take it any more and stood. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond just said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli yelled angrily.

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir demanded too. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

All at once, everyone got up and began to argue. Even Gandalf joined in, angrily speaking at Boromir. Only Aragorn, Frodo and Lord Elrond sat silently and watched, knowing that their participation would do more harm than good.

The black voice in Frodo's mind grew ever more insistent, while the Ring seemed to burn brighter as imaginary flames washed across its surface, revelling in the strife in the room.

When he spoke at last, his voice was quiet. "I'll take the ring." He didn't know why he said it, but it felt _right_. And with it, the situation resolved itself in his mind. He raised his voice. "I will take the Ring to Mordor!"

No one listened to him. Gandalf was too busy heatedly replying to Boromir, and the others couldn't hear him over the din.

Frodo felt his new-found courage disappearing as quickly as it had come.

He was about to sit down with shame when a dagger flew across the room and lodged itself into the wall mere inches from Boromir's head.

~o0o~

Arya watched with satisfaction from the shadows as everyone immediately went silent.

She dropped down from the rafters with deadly grace and straightened, surveying the Council from beneath the shadows of her hood. All the males stared at her in shock – all but Aragorn and Frodo.

"Frodo has something to say," she announced in a lethal quiet, and her voice carried throughout the room.

The man was the first to recover. "How dare you throw a dagger at me?"

She turned her face to him impassively. In a flash she had thrown two more, one on either side of his face, passing close enough to cut some of his brown hair.

The remaining men drew their weapons, but she ignored them as she stalked towards him, black cloak swirling behind her. "I don't appreciate those who glory in the fear of others. Reminds me of some unpleasant people I had to kill once."

He opened his mouth to utter a scathing retort, but she cut him off by waving a dagger threateningly in his face. "Next time you speak, you'll have a dagger in the throat. Understand?"

She drew her daggers from the wall and turned and glided elegantly back to the centre of the room, sneering at the rest.

Lord Elrond stood, face a mask of stone. "How do you come to possess my weapons?"

"From your armoury." She sat down smoothly in a chair next to Frodo. "It is a very nice one, by the way."

He watched her warily. "I have to ask you to return my daggers -"

"Then guard them better," she snapped. "Anyone could come in at anytime and steal whatever they need. Your weapons are now my weapons. Be glad I didn't take everything."

Lord Elrond was still giving her an angry look, and the rest were muttering about her, but she ignored them. "Frodo? You were about to say something?"

The Hobbit swallowed and nodded. "Right." He took a deep breath. "I will take the Ring to Mordor."

They all stared at him in shock, Aragorn with worry and Arya with no expression on her covered face.

Frodo looked about the room. "But I do not know the way." He looked crestfallen at that.

"I know the way," the old wizard, Gandalf, said. He walked over to Frodo. "I will go with you and protect you with my staff."

Aragorn stood next. "I will protect you, with my life and with my death." He knelt before Frodo. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," the elf, Legolas, announced next, moving to stand next to Aragorn.

"And my axe!" the dwarf Gimli rumbled, not about to let himself be outdone. He strode forward to stand reluctantly next to Legolas, shooting Arya a distrustful look. She merely grinned at him. He looked away with a scowl.

They all paused and turned to the men, who traded glances. After a long pause, Boromir stepped forward. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

"How noble," Arya observed acidly. "Do you usually make these ridiculously formal and overly dramatic statements whenever you decide on anything?" She sniffed at them. "I'm coming too. Sam, what about you?"

"Don't you dare leave me behind!" he yelped, scrambling out from behind the bushes and coming to Frodo's side. "You're not going anywhere without me!"

"I see it is impossible to separate the two of you, even when one is summoned to a secret council and the other one isn't," Lord Elrond observed.

"It can hardly be secret if everyone in this city knows when, where and why it is happening," Arya retorted sweetly.

"Oi! We're coming too!" Pippin yelled as he and Merry ran out from behind the doors and towards the group of people.

Lord Elrond glanced at Arya. She simply looked back. "Not so secret, is it?"

~o0o~

When back in his room with only half an hour to spare before the feast that evening, Aragorn wasn't surprised to feel the cold steel of a blade against his throat. He sighed. "Hello, Arya."

"Name's Cat now. Hello to you too, heir of Gondor," she replied coldly. "When were you going to tell me?" She didn't remove her blade from his neck.

"I had hoped for never," he said quietly, pushing the dagger away. "I can tell you truthfully that I do not want the crown, the title, or anything that comes with it. All it brings is corruption and greed for more power."

Arya sighed sharply as she replaced her weapon in its sheath. "Real life never works the way you expect it to."

"My ancestors lived for four thousand years without having to assume their throne. I can expect my lifetime to be the same."

"But your ancestors didn't have the threat of the one Ring and Sauron's rise hanging over their heads," she noted. "If all the leaders of men are like that Boromir, then a new king is definitely needed."

He sat down heavily. "Where has this strange maturity come from?"

She sat down opposite him, recognising his need to change the subject. "We agreed that we would have a heart-to-heart discussion as soon as we would get to a safe place. As I can easily assume that this is going to be that discussion, I thought it would be easier if I stopped acting like a spoilt brat."

"Must have been hard for you," Aragorn teased lightly.

She glared at him. "Now that we have partially discussed you, it's time to partially discuss me. You have twenty-five minutes, starting now."

"What world have you come from, and how did you get here?"

"Trust you to ask the questions hardest to explain first." She got up and started rooting around in the pockets of her trousers, bringing out a crumpled piece of paper, which she chucked at him. "Here. A map of what I know of my world, along with named castles and their lords, major landmarks and the territories of the nine Great Houses. Different continents too. It's all I can remember from eight years ago."

He caught it, but didn't look at it. "Eight years ago?"

She looked away. "There was a war ten years before. The War of the Five Kings." Another clump of papers was thrown at him, far thicker and bulkier than the map, covered with a fine, spiky hand in black ink. "The history that I know of my world, including general ideas about religion, origins, and what I think you should know, giving a brief overview of recent history and the War. It ends around eight years ago as well, with what I know of Westeros from that time, including the fates of the major Houses and cities."

Instead of studying it, Aragorn placed both documents on the table next to his chair and walked over to her, catching her hands to stop her pacing. "That doesn't tell me," he said gently,"who and where _you_ were eight years ago."

She deliberately avoided his eyes as she shook his hands off and folded her arms, but remained standing next to him. "I was running from the war," she explained tiredly. "I crossed to another continent, across the Narrow Sea. I made it to the House of Black and White by the time I had just turned eleven." She shrugged, moving away from him to sit in a huddle on his bed. "I was trained to be an assassin. It was the only way I could have stayed safe and lived to avenge my family. As for my ancestry, what position my family held, I doubt I can tell you that just yet."

"Will I find it in what you have given me?" he asked quietly.

Arya simply lifted a shoulder. "That depends, I guess. I still have not given you my last name, which in Westeros can be everything, but the brief history speaks of an Arya Stark. All I can say is, there were quite a few Aryas around when I was born. The name was fairly popular, probably why my parents chose it."

Aragorn nodded for her to go on, even as Arya felt the worry and confusion settle on his shoulders. "What happened next?" he prompted her.

"After about a year and a half, I heard news of my sister," she said quietly, but emotionless. She took a deep breath. "Her name _,_ " her voice broke, "was... it was..." She stuggled to form her sister's name on her lips, but failed. "I'm sorry," she said defeatedly. "I cannot name her."

"It wasn't good news, was it?" he guessed as he moved to sit beside her, not wanting to force her to reveal something she wasn't ready for yet.

Arya leaned into his warmth. The memories were painful enough, but to speak about them... "She was married." She could guess that Aragorn knew it wasn't going to be a typical happy marriage, and was thankful when he respected her space by staying silent. She shook her head, chasing away visions of Sansa screaming, crying as first the bastard-king and then the bastard-lord committed atrocities towards her, tearing away her innocence and her happy dreams. " _Life is not a song,_ " were her only words.

Aragorn just wrapped an arm around her. He had fought in wars too; there were some horrors you could never speak about. He had seen the traumatised victims as they recounted the terrible things they had faced and knew that sometimes the only thing that helped was someone who actually understood, who didn't judge and who was always there for them.

He didn't know if Arya had that person, but he would be there for her.

She laughed shakily. "I snapped. Went on a killing spree across Braavos because I just lost it, and when I was last there I still didn't know how many I killed. It was more than fifty, I know that much. Because of that, the Kindly Man took my sight and kept me locked in the House of Black and White, training with different weapons and poisons. He said that I would only get my sight back if I beat the Waif." Arya leant further back against him. "I beat her about two weeks ago. The Kindly Man gave me a bowl of liquid from the waters of the fountain in the House and told me to drink it. I knew it was poisoned, and yet I drank it anyway."

"You drank poison willingly?" he asked her in surprise, with an undercurrent of lethal rage. If he ever came across that man, he was going to kill him and it was not going to be a pretty death.

She shrugged listlessly as more images from her time in Braavos assaulted her. "He told me it would give me my sight back, and the Kindly Man never lies. So I drank, I died, and next thing I knew I was in this huge old forest with Nymeria coming up to say hello."

"And the rest of your family?" he asked slowly.

Arya's face turned blank and closed off, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "That is a topic I cannot and will not speak about." _'I saw my father lose his head. I saw Sansa trying to get to him and the guards forcing her to watch. I saw Grey Wind die as my mother and Robb were betrayed. I saw Bran lying broken at the bottom of the tower. And I did nothing.' "_ _Someday, maybe, if I trust you more I will tell you who I was. And once I can get past the pain, I will tell you about my family." It wasn't exactly a promise, but it was good enough for both of them._

Aragorn shifted so that Arya could huddle into his side more easily. "We still have fifteen minutes," he told her gently. "If you feel like crying, now's the time."

Her hysterical laughter quickly turned into sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder, finally allowing herself to let the pent-up grief come spilling out, her salty tears falling on the leather of Aragorn's tunic.

He didn't say anything, just held her tighter and let her cry on his shoulder.

~o0o~

"Will you be at the feast?" Aragorn asked once Arya had composed herself.

She shook her head. "I don't like being the centre of attention, which I no doubt will be if I show up. Besides, I'd rather not make them all die of fright; I'm sure I look like a mess right now."

"Your eyes are a bit puffy and red, but otherwise you look fine," he informed her, giving her an evaluating glance.

She snorted. "That would be more believable if I hadn't spent the last ten minutes crying on you like some stupid damsel in distress. I can assure you, it doesn't happen a lot." Arya frowned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it doesn't happen at all."

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "Everyone has a breaking point."

Sniffing, she managed a small smile. "Now you've got to show me yours to make it even."

He smiled back as he left his room.

Arya was about to do the same, but through the window, when the thought struck her. _'The Kindly Man never lies. But he told me that if I drank those waters, another thing would happen..._ _o_ _h gods._ _'_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The shadow looked across the twilit streets of the city. It was on the roof of a small, non-descript building, one which served as the home of an older elven lady and her two grandsons.

With no sign of fear whatsoever, the shadow raised a hand to its face, gripped its forehead between two pale fingers, and pulled.

~o0o~

"What is a woman doing with the Fellowship?" Boromir growled at Aragorn as they walked through Rivendell the next morning, about to depart on their quest.

"She is an elf-maiden, not a woman," Aragorn replied calmly. "And her gender does not define her."

Boromir scoffed. "Whatever she is, she had no right to threaten my life."

"She was not threatening your life, she was telling you to be silent," he stated flatly, starting to get angry with the man beside him, especially after he had been up most of the night reading the information Arya had left him. He still couldn't believe all that she had been through and seen at such a young age.

Her family...

"Really? How do you even know if we can trust her? She has not even told us her name!"

"Enough!" Aragorn said forcefully. "She is trustworthy, and as for her name, that is none of your business. If you want to know, then ask her yourself and stop trying to turn me against her!"

The man sneered, then strode away from him to where Arya was talking to Arwen, who had come to see them off.

"Do we stop him?" Sam asked worriedly, turning to Aragorn.

The heir to Gondor shook his head grimly. "Cat can sort him out herself. She doesn't need us to interfere, and that would only make Boromir a greater nuisance than he is already."

"Then why are you holding your sword's handle?" Frodo asked curiously, coming up to watch with them.

"Think of it as a precaution," he answered, eyes never leaving Boromir.

~o0o~

" **I still can't believe that you're going to go with them** ," Arwen fretted. " **What if you get hurt? What if one of you dies?** "

Arya was about to comfort her friend when she caught sight of Boromir approaching them, anger on his face. She frowned. " **If anyone's going to die, it's going to be Boromir. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.** "

" **That's hardly reassuring,** " Arwen said thoughtfully as the two turned to face him expectantly. " **But I see your point**."

" **You're too clever not to. At least you can think about more than just dresses and possible love interests, unlike many other females in this city,** " Arya muttered grouchily.

Arwen wrinkled her nose. " **You are far too horrible.** "

" **And you are far too nice.** "

The elf-lady shot Arya a look. " **I'm not sure whether that was meant as a compliment or as an insult.** "

Arya shrugged easily. " **It was meant in whichever way you interpret it.** "

By that time, Boromir had reached them.

"Why are you here?" he wasted no time in spitting out, hand firmly on the handle of his sword. "There is no place for you in the Fellowship!"

Arya chose to reply calmly, instead of going for the throat like she usually would. "I am here to escort Frodo to Mordor and to ensure that the One Ring truly is destroyed. Why are you here?"

Boromir went pale with rage. "How dare you speak like that to me?"

"I dare because I don't see why you are here," she stated bluntly. "You cannot control your righteous pride, and care more for your standing in the world than the eradication of evil. So, why are you here? Why you, and not someone else who will do more to see the quest through?"

She paused for breath after her little rant, only to see the man staring at her with something eerily close to hatred in his eyes.

"You say you don't know why I am here, then let me make it clear to you," he snapped. "I am here because I can fight and I can kill. Your little show yesterday was impressive, but that is all it was - a show."

He drew his sword and pointed it at her aggressively. "I challenge you. Right here and right now."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked calmly, hands itching towards her daggers and the other weapons she had liberated from Elrond's armoury.

Boromir just sneered at her. "Don't try to back out."

Arya lifted her head, looked across the crowd that lined the street, saw Arwen's encouraging smile and Aragorn's worried, but knowing glance.

"Try not to kill him," he requested of her. "He is more useful alive than dead, much as it pains me to admit it."

She simply raised an eyebrow in return and turned to face Boromir, shifting into her usual fighting stance. "To first blood?"

"To first blood," he confirmed, moving likewise. "Starting now."

He charged at her, to the sudden interest of the crowd.

She waited until the very last second, when it looked like he barrel into her, then twisted away to the side. She just as quickly stabbed him in the hand, kicked his knees in to make him fall on his knees and shoved a dagger against his throat.

With a slight flick of her wrist, she carved a line of red across the side of it.

"There," she hissed. "Happy now? Next time stop and think before you trust to strength over skill. On this quest, you will fight things that are far stronger than you, and if you don't correct these tendencies by learning restraint, you are done for."

She left Boromir to see to the cut himself and rejoined Aragorn and Frodo after one last goodbye to Arwen.

The crowd was quiet enough that she could hear a flower pot break when a child ran into it in order to get closer to the front.

"Honestly," she muttered to Aragorn. "They look like they've never seen a female fighter before."

"That is because they haven't," Legolas chimed in, adjusting his gait to walk beside them. "It is extremely unusual for females to have such a role anywhere. In all my thousand years at Mirkwood, there have only been two females who knew how to use weapons properly."

Arya looked at them in surprise. "What kind of backward society are you running here? Do you even realise that even though women cannot use swords, they can still die by them, alone and unprotected?"

"That is the policy they have in Rohan," Gimli cut in, not to be outdone by the blond-haired elf. "Their lands border the lands of evil, and so their women have basic weaponry skills to help the men protect the land."

"It is not only for the land, but for themselves as well," Legolas added, eyeing Boromir warily as he rejoined them. "When the men are hunting, fishing or doing whatever they need to do away from home, the women are left in the villages with the children. If a raid by monsters happens at that time, they can defend themselves long enough to get out of there and to safety."

"It is a good policy," Aragorn said calmly, meeting the eyes of Boromir with a challenging gaze. "Females should not suffer when males are big-headed enough to believe they can defeat everything. Because they cannot and will not. There are some battles that only females can fight."

Arya frowned at him. "If you are speaking about the battle of birthing children..." She let the threat trail off into an ominous silence.

Aragorn just scoffed. "The main example I can think of right now is the fate of the Witch-King of Angmar. There was a prophecy spoken, that he would not be defeated by man. Only by a woman or female will his death come."

"That's nice, Aragorn," Arya said pointedly. "But somewhat irrelevant if you don't explain who the Witch-King of Angmar is."

"He is the leader of the Ringwraiths," Boromir broke in. "How can you possibly not know that?"

She fixed him with a glare, turned up her nose at him and swept out of the gates, her black cloak billowing behind her, giving them a glimpse of the multitude of weapons she had strapped on underneath.

"I think you offended her," Gimli stated unnecessarily, pausing by the gates to wait for the Hobbits to catch up.

"You think that, I know that," Legolas laughed, stopping next to the dwarf.

Gandalf, who had previously been silent, now spoke up. "This bickering will get us nowhere, and it is now time to leave Imladris." He looked towards the group of Hobbits next to Aragorn. "Lead the way, Frodo."

Frodo drew in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and walked out of the gates with his head held high.

Only the Fellowship heard him ask, "Mordor, Gandalf. Which way?"

To which the old wizard replied, "Left, Frodo."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thanks to everyone who's favourited and followed. I really appreciate it! Thanks for all reviews as well, good and bad.**

 **Chapter** **13**

Arya was waiting for them a league into the forest, halfway up a tree.

"What took you so long?" she called down Aragorn and Frodo, who were the first to walk into her line of sight.

A loud crashing noice echoed through the underbrush accompanied by the sound of a particularly heated argument and she winced; her hearing was very sensitive, thank you very much.

A strange expression passed over the faces of the two; almost like they weren't sure whether to burst into fits of laughter or bang their heads against a tree, but she got the feeling of complete and utter exasperation from both of them.

By that time, before she had received an answer, a very dishevelled dwarf and elf had tumbled into the clearing.

"Watch it, tree-head!" Gimli scowled as a branch smacked into his back, the momentum causing him to stumble into Legolas' side.

"It is not my fault you are too fat and clumsy to move through the forest properly!" Legolas snapped back as the dwarf fell on top of him and sent them crashing to the ground, twisting to save his precious bow and arrows.

"Who are you calling fat, girl-face?"

"Who are you calling girl-face, ugly?"

By that time, Arya was laughing so hard that she fell out of her tree, right onto Gandalf.

"Sorry!" she snickered, hands clapped over her mouth to keep a semblance of decency and to prevent herself laughing into his face. "It's just that-" and she dissolved into another fit of laughter, choosing to stay seated on the mossy ground rather than risk falling again.

The wizard's eyes twinkled as he scraped himself off the ground. "That is alright, my dear. Just watch who you fall onto next."

Arya let out a nervous chuckle, somewhat disconcerted by the mischievous gleam in his eyes as her brief humour dissipated. "Please tell me you don't have the gift of foresight."

Gandalf smiled innocently. "It comes and goes." He went off to separate the squabbling duo that were the cause of this impromptu conversion, leaving Arya staring at his back with a feeling of coming doom.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked as he made his way carefully to her, hairy feet scratched and bleeding slightly from the thorns and sharp branches they had been walking over, Bill the pony trodding faithfully behind him.

"Sam, you can see I'm fine, but you're not!" she said worriedly, heaving herself up and striding towards him. "Don't you have shoes?"

He shrugged, face slightly pink. "I don't like shoes. They feel too constricting. I'm fine though, my feet just have to get used to the rougher terrain."

Arya refused to accept that.

"Frodo! Merry! Pippin! Get over here now!" she yelled. Within a matter of minutes, they were all standing before her.

"Yes, Miss Arya?" they chorused together obediently.

She gave them her most piercing look. "Show me your feet, all of you. _Now."_

They all looked at one another, then shuffled around and gave her a perfect view of the most bruised and dirty feet in existence. If she could tell correctly, some of those bruises were days old at best.

"Alright, you lot. Why didn't you tell me how bad your feet are?"

Merry and Pippin just shrugged, but Frodo spoke. "It doesn't really matter if our feet are scratched now. We don't have a lot of feeling in them because the skin there is so thick, and it regenerates quite fast. Soon enough, walking over this ground will be just as easy as walking in a grassy meadow, and so there was no reason to worry you."

Pippin looked at Frodo with bemusement. "Really? I thought it was some kind of magic specific to Hobbits!"

"Exactly!" Merry added. "You know; behold the Hobbits, masters of feet, walkers of every ground without pain!"

"And you convert it into matters of skin and basic knowledge! Frodo, I am very disappointed in you," Pippin announced, slinging his arms over Sam and Merry's shoulders, all three of them giving him a very disappointed look.

Arya stood there, unsure whether to scold them or go hit her head against a tree. ' _Great. Now I know how Aragorn and Frodo feel with the dwarf and elf.'_

She internally debated whether it would be easier to stay here and try to stop Frodo arguing with Merry, or whether she should try to break up the other two. A quick glance confirmed that both groups were still going strong. Even Boromir was attempting to help Gandalf as Legolas went for his bow and Gimli went for his axe.

Rather cleverly, she chose option three; she shoved two fingers into her mouth and whistled.

At the loud and piercing noise, both groups stopped and turned, giving her rather impressive glares.

"What?" Legolas and Gimli snapped at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise and both turned away in a huff.

"If you need to say something, say it now," Boromir snapped eventually after a prolonged silence in which everyone just stared at each other.

Arya raised an eyebrow at him. "Who said I have something to say?"

"It's not like there could be any reason for you to whistle," he said condescendingly. "Unless you wish to summon some noble guardian to help us in our quest, perhaps?" he finished sarcastically.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw realisation dawn on Aragorn.

"Cat?" he asked exasperatedly. "Although I know you love dramatics, this might not be the best time-"

"Nonsense!" she interrupted cheerfully. "Too late now!"

This time, he really did bang his head against that tree.

The rest of the Fellowship gave him worried glances, and backed up slightly, just in time for an over-sized blur to come bounding through the trees, jumping up on Aragorn and licking his face in a perfect, if slightly over-enthusiastic, display of direwolf love.

Gandalf looked unbothered, leaning on his staff.

Legolas looked shocked but fascinated by the struggles of Aragorn to get that " _you are supposed to be full-grown, not a puppy!"_ thing off of himself.

Gimli had raised his axe in front of himself and looked sufficiently terrified, though there was a hint of hope that this strange creature was there to help them.

As for Boromir, he looked like he was having a heart attack.

"Get away from it!" he barked, drawing his sword and raising himself to his impressive height.

(Not that Arya was judging. But seriously, would it have hurt the gods to make her a bit taller? The tip of her head only reached the level of Aragorn's mouth. How could she keep intimidating them if she had to tilt her head up to look them in the eyes?!).

Aragorn finally succeeded in getting Nymeria to stop by scratching her behind her ears. He looked disbelievingly at the man. "Nymeria is harmless. Put that sword away."

The direwolf nudged his hand to keep him stroking her. She whined when he didn't, and trotted to Arya sadly with her ears flicked back and her tail between her legs to show just how disappointed she felt.

"No," Arya said firmly. "You do not get to greet Aragorn, ignore me, and then expect hugs and kisses. Go introduce yourself."

Nymeria's ears flicked up immediately and her tail started wagging, slowly at first, then faster and harder as she shot off like a released arrow, skidding to a sudden stop in front of Gandalf.

She sat down in front of him - not that it made her any less imposing - and sniffed at Gandalf's hat. The wizard stood quite still, but seemed unafraid of the large direwolf who was taking in his scent.

"Her name is Nymeria, and she is a direwolf," Arya spoke into the silence. "She won't hurt you, unless you attack her, try to kill her, or call her a wolf. Nym hates that," she added almost as an afterthought.

Feeling an angry gaze on her, she lifted her eyes to meet Boromir's accusing stare. He looked angry, and he had not relinquished his grip on his sword.

Nymeria huffed in agreement with Arya's previous statement as she licked Gandalf's face and trotted over Legolas, who was next in line. She didn't hesitate to roll over onto her back and whine for him to scratch her tummy.

The elf blinked in surprise, but complied with ease. The direwolf whined in blissful happiness, her rear paw beginning to scrabble through the air as Legolas used his long arms to reach right across Nymeria's stomach.

"Miss Cat?" Sam asked, tugging at her sleeve, fortunately remembering to use her other name. "Can we greet Nymeria now?"

She heaved a long-suffering sigh as the Hobbits looked at her with eager hopefulness. "I suppose I cannot stop you."

With a cheer, they turned as one and ran to Nymeria who, sensing the danger, had just enough time to roll onto her feet and brace herself before she was hit by a tidal wave of Hobbits.

Looking to Legolas on a sudden hunch, she saw him smirking at Gimli. The dwarf noticed and had just started his retort, when Nymeria finally shook herself like a wet dog, easily dislodging her load of small creatures who had dirty feet.

She gave each one a greeting lick, then turned and her golden-eyed gaze zeroed in on Gimli.

Rising to her four paws, she lifted her muzzle to the air and sniffed the wind for Gimli's scent.

When it hit her nose, she obviously smelt something interesting, for she quickly began padding toward him.

The dwarf himself was oblivious, retorting as he was to Legolas, who had seen the direwolf advance with a knowing grin on his face.

"What are you smiling about?" Gimli rumbled in annoyance, gesturing wildly with his arms and axe.

Legolas' grin only grew. "Look behind you."

The dwarf turned warily, coming face to face with shaggy grey fur. With rising horror, he looked up to see Nymeria staring down at him with a hungry look on face.

She gave him the equivalent of a direwolf grin, which involved lots of sharp fangs, then pounced.

The rest of the Fellowship, apart from Boromir, were beside themselves with laughter as the dwarf struggled below the direwolf, who was rooting around his clothes with her muzzle.

"Mercy!" he yelled in fear. "I yield! Argh!"

Finally, Nymeria found what she was looking for. She gripped it with her teeth and yanked, until she had pulled a strip of something leathery from Gimli's tunic.

"Give that back!" the dwarf yelled as Nymeria proudly showed off her prize to Aragorn.

He blinked when Nymeria opened her mouth to let him see it more clearly. "Rabbit meat."

" _My_ rabbit meat!" Gimli yelled as he struggled back to his feet.

"You had food and you didn't tell us?" Pippin accused, him and Merry giving the dwarf their fiercest glare.

"That is beside the point!"

Aragorn held out a hand to Nymeria. "Give."

The direwolf whimpered, but obeyed, depositing the meat in his hand. Aragorn held it back out to Gimli. "Take it."

The dwarf looked at the strips of meat and the saliva covering it and blanched. "The direwolf can keep it."

Aragorn tossed the mess up into the air, and it was snapped up by Nymeria, who started to wolf it down happily.

"Is she always this loveable?" Legolas asked Arya as they watched the direwolf happily chewing away, a strip of the meat sticking out of the side of her mouth.

Arya shook her head. "Not always," she admitted. "It's only with people that she likes."

"What happens if she doesn't like someone?" he asked in an undertone.

At that precise moment, Boromir's resolve snapped and he began to stride towards Nymeria, his sword ready in his hand.

"Watch and see," Arya hissed angrily, watching Boromir with extreme dislike in her eyes.

Nymeria had already sensed the threat and turned, hackles rising and baring her teeth in a low and vicious snarl. All trace of the happy direwolf disappeared, and in its place the feared killer made an appearance.

Boromir didn't hesitate. He had never seen how lethal a direwolf could be; he probably didn't think she posed a threat. That was his mistake.

"Alright, Warg," he said in a cold tone. "You are not welcome here. Get ou-"

Before he finished the word 'out', Nymeria had lunged for him.

Far more swiftly than any creature her size had a right to be, she had dodged the downward stroke of Boromir's sword and raked the claws of her front feet across his front, causing him to fall backwards with a cry of pain.

In a flash, she had her teeth closed around his throat, her rear paws poised to carve her claws across his stomach again, growling lowly and angrily.

"I think," Arya stated in a voice of ice, with an emotionless mask across her face, "that you should apologise."

Boromir's sneered laugh was cut off by Nymeria tightening her grip on his throat.

"I think," Legolas said, equally as coldly, "that you should do what Cat said."

The rest of the Fellowship voiced their assent.

Boromir's face twisted, but he forced out an unsincere apology through gritted teeth.

Arya and Nymeria's gazes met, and the direwolf waited until the elf-maiden had taken Boromir's sword before she reluctantly released her grip on him and backed off, teeth bared in a snarl.

The man got up immediately, levelling a glare full of hatred at Arya and Nymeria. "Give me my sword."

"Not until you earn it back by apologising properly," Arya retorted. "You can use those three daggers you have on you. And your shield. Or if you prefer, you can use that fancy horn to call one of us to aid you."

She swung around and delivered a fierce drop-kick to the oak beside her. In the branches, something rustled, and a big bag of grey cloth dropped to the ground with the clink of metal inside it.

Arya unfastened it and dumped out an assortment of weapons. "Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin. Choose your weapons and let's go; I'm sure Mordor is further than a league from Rivendell."

"How many weapons did you steal?" Gimli asked incredulously.

Arya wrinkled her nose. "Three swords, five short swords, thirteen daggers, five other things I don't know the names of that looked deadly." She rolled her eyes at their surprised looks. "Besides, I'm not stealing; I am borrowing with intent to keep. Elrond should really guard his armoury better."

"Why do you also have arm guards from the armoury at Imladris?" Legolas wanted to know.

"These?" She smiled happily at her forearms, pushing her sleeves up to her elbow to show them the arm guards.

They were of a black colour, with swirls and whorls of different shades of grey in the main body. A picture of a snarling wolf's head had been shaped from the metal where the arm guards ended at the wrist, giving the impression that the wolves were threatening anyone looking at them, while the ends of the arm guards at the elbows faded into deepest black, shaped into cruel and sharp curves that seemed eerily like spikes of ice.

The arm guards were deathly beautiful and dangerous, appearing delicate yet powerful at the same time.

Aragorn said what they were all thinking. "They suit you."

Arya smiled at him, a true smile. "Thank you. They fit perfectly as well."

Legolas coughed uncomfortably. "I don't mean to sound unappreciative of their beauty or anything, but don't they belong to Arwen?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure she won't mind."

~o0o~

A league away, in the noble elven city, Imladris to some and Rivendell to others, a high-pitched shriek of fury shattered the air.

~o0o~

"What was that?" Sam asked nervously, glancing at the direction of Rivendell, from which direction the sound had come.

Arya shrugged. "Probably a bird or something. Time to go!"

They all watched her as she danced away in the direction of Mordor, Nymeria scampering cheerfully behind her as the Hobbits squabbled over weapons.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Legolas asked them all as he stared at Arya's retreating form.

"I have no idea," Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir all said at once.

"Aragorn?"

"Yes, Frodo?"

"I'm hungry. When is it time for second breakfast?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there _yet?_ "

"No."

" _Are we there yet?!"_

"If you ask me that one more time I will tie your mouth shut!"

Pause.

"Are we there now?"

Aragorn lunged at Arya with the intention of carrying out his threat to the letter.

She laughed as she jumped away from the rocks she was walking on, landing on others with a nimble grace and springing from perch to perch like a snow leopard, Aragorn woefully clumsy in comparison, especially in the rapidly darkening twilight.

The Fellowship just rolled their eyes and continued trudging forward, used to Arya's antics with a week of travelling with her behind them.

Yesterday was Legolas.

The day before was Gimli.

The day before that was Aragorn.

It appeared it was his turn again today.

After Aragorn had sat down on one of the rocks, out of breath and sweaty, trying to suck oxygen back into his lungs, Arya dropped down beside him and patted his back empathetically.

"Don't worry, heir of Gondor. I'm sure your fitness will improve soon enough, and then you might have a chance at possibly catching me!"

Laughing, she rose and walked away with a skip in her step, until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her middle and Aragorn hoisted her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, walking back to the rest of the Fellowship, who had settled down in preparation for nightfall a couple of minutes ago.

Arya squeaked in indignation. "Put me down!" She rapped her knuckles sharply against his shoulder blade. "This is such an undignified position!"

"I will put you down when you stop being a spoilt brat," he remarked calmly, though still slightly out of breath.

"Excuse me?!" she spluttered. "Spoilt? I have never been spoiled in my life! I may have been who I was, but I was never _spoiled_!"

"Anyone else notice she didn't argue with the brat part?" Gimli muttered to Legolas.

The elf snorted. "She chose her battle wisely, is all I can say."

"Of course race wins when competing with reason."

"Come now, Gimli," Gandalf reprimanded gently. "I am sure Legolas meant that Cat has simply no way to argue against the observation that she is being a brat, as Aragorn puts it so nicely."

Boromir, who was tending the fire a few feet away, scoffed. "That girl is going to be the death of us all."

"I have no doubt of that," Legolas muttered, and for once he and Gimli were in complete agreement.

Gandalf smiled knowingly. "I wouldn't be so sure."

~o0o~

"Given up yet?" Aragorn teased Arya.

"Look, because I feel bad for the cramping in your shoulder, I'm going to say yes. That, and because I don't want you to start whining that I weigh too much."

"You do weigh a lot." Aragorn groaned in relief as he set Arya down onto the rock-strewn ground, rolling his shoulders back until they clicked. "About as much as a sack of feathers."

"Then why did it hurt to hold me up for two hours?" Arya asked, genuinely interested.

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder. "Even a sack of feathers gets heavy after a while. At least this teaches me not to make threats I can't carry out."

"Fair enough," Arya said as they settled next to the campfire, having been unanimously voted for first watch after their little argument threatened to carry on deep into the night.

If they were going to be pests, they might as well be useful pests, as long as they kept quiet about it.

Arya leaned into Nymeria's warm flank and gazed into the warm golden fire, hands idly playing with the threads of her cloak. The direwolf twitched slightly but didn't wake, the leafy crown the Hobbits had made for her staying in place.

She looked at Aragorn, something she had heard in Imladris niggling inside her mind. Her mouth ran away from her as usual. "Is there anything between you and Arwen?"

He looked at her in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

Shrugging, she squinted at his face in the flickering light. "I didn't really get what the people meant, and it's not really my business, but there was this one elf saying that you two were supposed to love each other wholeheartedly, not treat each other as siblings. Why would he say that?"

Aragorn sighed heavily and turned his gaze back to the flames. "When I was a child, about two years old, Lord Elrond gave me a home at Imladris and treated me like his own son because my father, Arathorn, had been killed by orcs. As I grew older, Arwen came to me saying that she loved me, and that we were meant to be together."

"What happened?" Arya pressed when it looked like he wouldn't continue, though she could guess that it didn't end well.

"I told her that I didn't love her and that I was raised as her brother, and so she should treat me as such."

"You lied," she guessed correctly, watching as shame crossed in face. "You did love her. Why didn't you tell her?"

"Because she shouldn't tie herself to me now, and then spend the rest of eternity heartbroken and alone. I couldn't do that to her; she deserves happiness for the rest of her immortality, and I cannot give that to her." He shook his head. "She was so upset, I was actually going to confess, but then Lord Elrond entered the room we were in and she ran out in tears."

"I'm surprised you lived to tell the tale," she said bluntly.

He laughed sadly. "He gave me this look, and I could tell straightaway that he _knew_ , somehow, and that he was grateful I had done what I did. The next time Arwen saw me, she called me brother, and acted like our previous incident hadn't happened, but I could tell that she had taken my words to heart. It took her twenty years to get over, but now she is the best sister I could ever have, and I doubt we could see each other as anything else."

"If it makes it any better, I think she's happy with how it turned out. She still loves you, just in the way siblings love each other," Arya said reassuringly. "I should know; I have five." She paused, a shadow of sadness crossing her face. "I _had_ five."

"I am sorry for your loss," he said quietly, and she could tell that he understood.

"Don't be," she sighed. "It was long ago, in a different world. Maybe I'll forget the pain soon, but I can't speak about it now."

"That's alright," he told her. "These things take time."

She visibly shook off the memories and leant forward, hands on her knees, the brightness back in her gaze. "Now for the things that don't add up."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Ask away, your royal highness. I live to serve," he said sarcastically.

She took that as permission to go ahead. "How old are you?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Eighty-seven."

"Funny. You don't look a day older than thirty."

He winced. "Is that your way of telling me I look old?"

"That's my way of telling you that I don't believe you." She shrugged. "Though I can tell that you aren't lying."

The flames flickered and spat out burning embers, illuminating Aragorn's patient face. "I would not lie to you."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, I saying that men don't usually live beyond thirty, forty if they're lucky, in my world. And if they do, they become old and wrinkled and ugly."

A small smile appeared on his face. "Are you telling I'm handsome?"

"Anyone with eyes can see that," she told him absent-mindedly, doing the maths in her head. "You're not a man then?"

"I am a Dunadan. I am descended from the men of Numenor, who can live up to roughly a hundred and eighty years of age, longer if they're of the royal line-"

"Which you are."

"Which I am, yes. Thank you for not interrupting," he said pointedly, turning to look at the trees behind him at a faint rustling noise, then turning back once he saw it was just the wind.

"How old can elves get?" Arya wanted to know, though her eyes were starting to droop down due to exhaustion.

"The eldest I can think of right now is Lady Galadriel, and she is around twelve thousand years of age." He turned his laugh into a cough as Arya's head slipped off her hand and she jerked into awareness suddenly.

She glared at him sullenly, and he tried to look like he hadn't seen that. "Go to sleep. I can take first watch by myself."

"Are you sure?" Arya questioned, even as she tried to stifle her yawn. "I can stay up."

"Don't think I don't know that you feel the need to stay awake whenever one of the others takes their watch."

"At least I can trust you not to strangle me in my sleep," she returned as she draped her cloak over herself and curled up next to Nymeria.

"They would not do that," he told her.

"Wouldn't they?"

"Of course not. They would wait until you were awake."

"That does _not_ make me feel better. Wake me for second watch, will you?" she asked, even as she felt sleep tugging her into oblivion.

"Don't count on it," he muttered under his breath, but he didn't need to worry; Arya was already asleep.

He settled back against a tree, watching over the Fellowship as their snores drifted peacefully into the inky black sky.

~o0o~

 _The light of the flaming brands burn_ _s_ _her eyes and she retreat_ _s_ _further into the soothing darkness of the night, moving on silent paws to prevent discovery._

 _She scent_ _s_ _the air, and a foul stench hit_ _s_ _her nose, one of grime and congealing blood and rotting flesh, but mixed with that_ _i_ _s the scent of not-family, her distant, smaller cousins, even if they fe_ _e_ _l slightly wrong._

 _Not of her pack, that_ _i_ _s certain._

 _Pricking her ears forward, she ma_ _k_ _e_ _s_ _out the rough growling cries of the strange monsters, their words jagged and undistingishable, hurting her ears and making her want to rip, tear, kill, and she kn_ _o_ _w_ _s_ _she c_ _an't_ _do that._

 _Not yet, anyway._

 _But she stay_ _s_ _and prowl_ _s_ _closer, remaining invisible in the shadows, but able to make out the large mis-shapen forms of twisted and ugly creatures, chasing the sleeker and smaller forms of her_ _not-_ _family before them._

 _Then, the sound of a whip._

 _She hisses angrily, ears flattening to her skull, even as her distant cousins pick up their pace, so much that she herself has to increase her speed in order to keep up._

 _The larger ones stop suddenly, but her_ _not-family_ _keep_ _s_ _running, and now she sees the foam at their muzzles, their ribs sticking out from their mangy fur, the madness in their eyes and she runs, runs faster than the wind back to her pack, branches snagging in her fur and pulling her back, but she breaks free_ _every time_ _and runs even faster._

 _Because she knows that they are hungry, and rabid, and they are heading right towards where those in her pack lie asleep and defenceless._

~o0o~

Arya woke with a cry and found herself looking right into golden eyes. Nymeria howled urgently, then leapt to the opposite side of the clearing to rip Legolas' covers away.

Aragorn was already standing, sword drawn. "Cat, what-"

"Up, everyone up!" she yelled, springing to her feet with daggers in hand, traces of sleep already dissipated. "Wolves!"

 **AN: I hope that clears up why Aragorn is not involved romantically with Arwen; he breaks off their love because he does not want Arwen to suffer eternally once he eventually dies, and now the only love between them is sibling love. I've always found it heartbreaking that Arwen has to be alone without him when he passes on, and so I've changed that in this story.**

 **And yes, I** ** _do_** **know that she dies of heartbreak a year later.**

 **A reminder, the story isn't completely dictated by the books/movies, it will be different every now and then, and the characters are written as per my impressions of them.**

 **Also, right now Arya and Aragorn are only friends, because she needed someone to confide in about her past, and (I feel) the Hobbits are not mature enough for that, just to clear up some questions reviewers had.**

 **I don't have any set plans for pairings in this story, if you want to see a specific one really badly, tell me in a review and explain why. If you're convincing enough, I'll fit it in, though if you feel anyone should stay single then tell me as well.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

For a few seconds, they just stared at her in silence.

Then Gimli stated what everyone was thinking: "There are no-"

One leaped out from the bush behind him and sank its teeth into his arm with a snarl.

He yelled out in pain, already swinging his axe as the rest of the pack flooded the clearing, and from then on it was every man (or Hobbit, Dwarf, elf, direwolf) for him/herself.

Boromir let out a war cry and waded right into the thick of the rabid wolves with just his daggers and shield, while Legolas drew his bow and began shooting them down left and right, Gimli often jumping into his way with his axes cutting a swath of land through the wolves.

Aragorn himself stayed in front of the Hobbits, blocking off any who attacked from the centre, while Gandalf was to his right, wielding his own sword with skill.

As for the Hobbits, they were arranged in a circle, their backs to each other as they anxiously faced forwards, their short swords held in front of them.

"Cat? Why are you not fighting?" Legolas called to her, decapitating one wolf that got too close.

Arya was standing in the middle of the clearing, Nymeria by her side, with an odd look on her face. All the wolves stayed away from them, the only two not being set upon.

"I cannot fight them," she replied softly. "They are family."

Nymeria and Arya looked at each other in the grey dawn light, and those who were looking could have sworn that their eyes changed colour; Nymeria's to grey, and Arya's to gold.

But then all of the wolves stopped fighting when Nymeria tipped her large head back to the moonlit sky and howled, a beautiful, terrible sound that made it clear to them that she was a wolf too, and that _this pack is not to be messed with._

There was a few seconds of silence, where the wolves paused and stared at Nymeria. She stood proudly and stared them down regally, then crouched down, ready to spring and _snarled_.

Whining softly, they backed away from her into the trees with their tails between their legs, still hungry but with their sanity restored, and then they ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

The only one left was a fuzzy-looking cub with overly large paws. Seemingly not caring that Nymeria was as large as a horse, with a powerful bite and experience on her side, he tried to advance on her, baring his little fangs.

He might have been trying to seem threatening, but all he achieved was making Nymeria tilt her head at him with wolfish curiosity, while Sam was aw-ing with all his heart.

That was the final straw for the little cub, and he scampered up to Nymeria and sank his white fangs into the fur of her front paw.

The fur, because his teeth were too short to get through it to the skin beneath.

Nymeria simply lifted her front paw and glared at the puffball hanging off of it. He stiffened, his fur rising along the back of his spine, and hissed at her.

Of course, to do that, he had to open his mouth, resulting in him falling on his rump onto the ground.

He yowled crossly, then scrabbled to his four paws and shook himself like a wet dog. When he opened his large amber eyes again, Nymeria was nose to nose with him and giving him an adoring look.

He froze, then finally it clicked that he had made a big mistake.

Far too late, far, far too late, he bolted for the trees.

The Fellowship had a spectacular view of Nymeria pouncing on him, pinning him down, and giving him a thorough wash with the love only a female direwolf could give. Hint: there was a lot of it.

Eventually the cub's yowling and scrabbling made Arya take pity on him. "Alright Nym, I think he's had enough by now. Let him go."

Nymeria gave him one last loving nuzzle, then removed her paw from the scruff of his neck.

He bounded off immediately and hid behind Aragorn's legs, cautiously peeking out and hissing once he caught sight of Nymeria watching him, shoving his furry face into the back of Aragorn's knee.

"Can we keep him? Can we keep him?" Merry asked, jumping up and down in excitement.

"It appears we have no choice," Gandalf proclaimed loudly, getting the Hobbit to stop at once and squeal with happiness, Pippin and Sam joining in while Frodo just smiled. "Especially since the wolf-cub has decided that he wants Aragorn to adopt him."

Arya and Gimli snickered together as they watched the cub gnawing hungrily on Aragorn's boot.

"Alright, furball, off," he said resignedly, picking the cub up by the scruff of his neck and lifting him to inspect the thin ribs sticking out of the black fur, with a white patch under the throat. "My shoes are not food."

The cub sniffed him with his damp little nose, then licked Aragorn across the face, yipping happily with his tail wagging.

He sighed. "Gimli, do you still have some rabbit strips?"

"Aye?" the dwarf asked suspiciously. "Don't tell me you're going to give it to that wolf?"

"If you don't feel like handing it over calmly, Nymeria seems ready to take it by force," Legolas pointed out calmly.

A bundle of meat smacked Aragorn in the chest.

"Take it eat it do whatever you want with it I'm not hungry anyway," Gimli said quickly.

"Thank you-"

"Don't worry about it," he muttered crossly, arms folded. "I wouldn't have been able to eat it anyway before the overgrown guard dog stole it off me again, isn't that right?" He glared at Nymeria fondly.

The direwolf nuzzled his head and rolled onto her back for a scratch.

"I don't think you all seem to realise something," Boromir said suddenly. "That is not a wolf-cub."

Arya looked at him like he was crazy. "What else could he possibly be?"

"It was about a year ago, I was on patrol in Gondor and we found a dead Warg. There were three main characteristics that it had that were different to that of a normal wolf, apart from its size." He frowned. "I lost a couple of men because we didn't see that the Orc rider was still alive and not dead like we thought it was." A shadow of grief passed over his face before it flickered and was gone.

Then, in response to her question, he sheathed his daggers and walked over to Aragorn, taking one of the cub's paws and splaying it out for her to see.

"So he has six toes. So what?" she asked in annoyance. "It's probably just a mutation!"

"How many spines does he have?" Legolas asked worriedly.

Aragorn used the hand that wasn't holding the cub to feel his back. "Two." Legolas looked worried now as well.

"Check his teeth," Gandalf said suddenly. "Are there two main fangs in every quarter?"

Boromir and Aragorn looked at each other.

"I can-" Aragorn started.

"That's fine, I can do it," Boromir broke in, already pulling on some leather gloves. "Just hold him properly."

Aragorn used his other hand to hold the cub's head up, while Boromir gently opened his mouth. "Two main fangs," they confirmed, Aragorn setting the cub on the ground while Boromir wiped his gloves on some moss.

Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "It appears a Warg shall be joining us on our quest."

Arya really appreciated the way both of them just accepted it without question.

Boromir snagged a piece of rabbit meat from Aragorn and held it just out of reach for the cub. "Sit."

The cub just stood there, looking confused while eyeing the meat hopefully. Nymeria finally got up, gave Gimli a lick and loped over unhurriedly. When she got to Boromir, she nudged the cub to awareness and stood stock-straight.

"Sit," Boromir said again. This time, the cub watched Nymeria sit in an elegant fashion. Shaking his head, Boromir tore the strip into quarters and gave Nymeria one.

She took it delicately and gulped it down, licking her muzzle in delight.

"Sit," he said for the third time, and now the cub finally sat, a little clumsily but well enough as he tried to imitate Nymeria. Boromir smiled faintly. "Good boy." He tossed him another quarter of meat.

"May I?" Legolas asked, holding out a hand.

Boromir tossed him the remaining quarters, and the elf crouched to be on the same level as the cub. "Lie down."

Nymeria lay down as requested, her hind legs tucked under her and her front paws stretched out. She was given a piece of meat as a reward while the cub watched and learned.

Legolas turned to the cub next. "Lie down."

The cub obliged, but just before Legolas handed him the meat, he jumped up and pulled it out of the elf's hand, then escaped to Aragorn, where he lay across his boots and began to chew the rabbit meat, drooling all over Aragorn's shoes in the process.

"Thank you, furball, for washing my shoes," he stated blankly. He then motioned Sam to come over, and once he did, gave him the remaining meat. "Split this between the four of you and one at a time give him commands like the ones Boromir and Legolas have just shown. If anything happens, he needs to be able to listen to orders, as they might just save his life. Reward him with the meat, but not too much, and only if he performs correctly."

"Can we-" Pippin began.

"No Pippin, you may not eat some of the meat yourselves. He has been starving for a long time, and needs this more than you do," he reprimanded gently. Aragorn then noticed the Hobbits' furtive looks. "This does not mean that you will give him large amounts of food in a short time; he has not eaten a thing for a long time, and if he gets too much now he will only become sick. Give him a break every now and then to allow him to digest, and only one command at a time."

"Right. Sorry," Pippin apologised.

"What is his name?" Frodo asked quietly, fiddling with the chain that held the One Ring.

"If you're going to name him, make the name a good one," Boromir said as he stood beside Arya.

"I agree with Boromir," she said, then rolled her eyes as he gave her a surprised look. "I'm not a spoilt brat _all_ the time. I can be reasonable, especially if I agree with the opinion expressed."

He rolled his eyes too. "Shame it only took so long for my opinion to be the same as yours."

"Don't worry, we still disagree on many things," Arya deadpanned, and he agreed with her good-naturedly.

"How about Blackwarg?" Gimli proposed. "I can't think of anything else right now."

"Too basic," Legolas stated. "How about Heart Ripper?"

"That sounds too much like the name of a sword," Aragorn said. "How about Moregul?"

"That... is a good name," Boromir admitted.

"I like it too," Gandalf confessed.

"And me!" the Hobbits said as one.

"Strangely enough, that is quite a nice name," Arya laughed. "What does it even mean?"

He looked at them all. "I have no idea. I just thought that he will become as deadly as a Morgul blade, but will be somewhat softer, hence the 'e' in the name."

Legolas shrugged. "It's better than our ones, so Moregul it is."

Aragorn picked up the little cub. "You decide. Do you want Moregul as your name?" The cub yipped happily and licked Aragorn's face again. "I take it that means yes."

"I'm going to call him Morry," Pippin decided.

Arya laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'm sure he'll love it."

Aragorn set Morry down and he bounded off to Nymeria, jumping around her and wagging his tail as he yipped with joy. The large direwolf gave him a fond lick across the side of his face.

"Time to go then," Boromir announced. "It's still a long way to Mordor."

But in that moment, none of them felt anything but hope for the future.

 **AN: So, a new addition to the Fellowship! The details of Wargs might not be correct, but I'm using them to make the differences between Morry and a real wolf-cub clearer.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Legolas was confused.

Completely and utterly lost.

Not physically; he was still stuck trudging through the rocky ground of a small mountain, staring at the stones imbedded in the heels of Boromir's shoes, but his mind was scrabbling to find the answer and failing miserably.

Not the answer to why Bill the pony, who had joined them in Imladris to carry their suplies, had seemed to vanish when the wolves attacked; Aragorn had sent the pony off to graze and drink some water from a stream roughly ten minutes away, knowing that Bill was clever and fast enough to escape from any enemies.

The answer to why Cat said the wolves were family.

The answer to why she was familiar with weapons like daggers and swords, but had no idea that the preferred weapons of elves were bows and arrows.

The answer to why there was something in her eyes that reminded him of death when she was being serious, but then she would blink and the annoying brat would be back again.

The answer to who she actually was.

He sighed longly.

It appeared that was a perfect reason for the source of his troubles to march up to him and demand that he show her how to use a bow.

So that was how he found himself drawing a line through the ground, carving a circle on a tree fifty feet away, and demonstrating the proper technique to shoot an arrow into the circle while the rest of the Fellowship continued on.

"My turn," Cat decided, snatching the bow from his arms and snagging an arrow from his quiver.

"Be careful with those," he warned. "You are not allowed to break them."

"Would I do that?" she asked as she drew the bowstring back shakily and let the arrow fly.

"From what I have seen of you so far, yes. If you had a reason, yes you would," Legolas said calmly, then stepped to the side, gracefully dodging the pinecone she chucked at him. "You need to focus more on your aiming."

"I think it's pretty good after eleven years of no archery," Cat returned, pointing to where the arrow was embedded an inch to the left of the circle.

"Why did you stop eleven years ago?" he asked curiously, retrieving his arrow and brushing off the splinters that covered the arrowhead.

Cat gave him an unreadable look, and he had the strangest feeling that he was being measured and judged. He must have passed the test, because she took the arrow from him impatiently and tried again.

"It's impossible to get better at archery if you become blind," she said simply, releasing the arrow.

It hit the centre of the circle perfectly this time.

"If you are an experienced archer, loss of sight doesn't matter. You just have to rely more on your hearing," Legolas replied, though inside he was reeling. The only forms of blindness he knew were incurable, yet Cat was obviously seeing the arrow hit the target and doing some strange victory dance.

"I hit it! I hit it! I hit it, yeah!"

"Why were you blind?" he asked suddenly.

Her victory dance paused. "That is a difficult question to answer."

"Can you try?"

She sighed, and now she looked so sad that he regretted ever opening his mouth. "Would you believe me if I told you I came from a different world where I had to escape a war, and in doing so trained to become an assassin, losing my sight as a punishment in the process?"

He thought about the strange accent she spoke with, the silence she moved with when she wanted to, and the slight surprise when she encountered things he was familiar with from childhood. "Yes."

Cat collected her arrow. "Are elves usually this calm and collected, or is it just you in a one time occurrence?"

He blinked. "I'm not sure. Everyone says elves are calm and wise and dignified all the time, but I think it's just a lot of nonsense. Because we're immortal, we see and experience a lot, so any situation you can think of, we've been in before and so we know how to handle it best. Elflings can be wilder and more annoying than anyone." He paused. "Just like you, actually. How old are you?"

"Excuse me? How dare you!" Cat snapped, taking sudden offence. "It is impolite to ask a lady her age!"

"You were a lady?"

"That is not hard to believe!"

"Aren't they supposed to be calm and dignified? Like Arwen?"

"Elves are supposed to be calm and dignified as well! Why am I supposed to be calm and dignified all the time? _It's not_ _fair_!"

"Don't worry. It will be easier after a thousand years or so."

" _I_ _don't want to live that long either!"_

Legolas shrugged awkwardly. "You'll have to, unless you are killed. Please don't break my bow in your tantrum."

"Fine! I am having a tantrum! So what?! Being a lady is HARD WORK."

"You really are a spoilt brat."

"Thank you!"

"Can we get back to the archery now?"

She changed the subject gladly. "What is the furthest distance you can shoot and still hit every shot?"

His brow creased in thought. "That depends."

"On what?"

"The size of the bow, the strength of the bow, the quality of arrows, the terrain, the visibility, how tired my arm is-"

"Here, right now, with this bow and these arrows."

Legolas lifted a shoulder gracefully. "In this time and place, distance would not matter so much, it would be how well I can shoot."

He took his bow and arrow back from Cat, then gathered three berries from a nearby bush. Each of them was about half a centimetre in diameter.

"Throw them as high as you can, all of them at once," he said as he passed them to her.

She glared at him for telling her what to do, but threw them up in the air anyway, all three in all directions.

In seconds, he had shot three arrows, pivoting on the spot gracefully. Cat watched in amazement as each berry was split in half by an arrow.

"That is a very good example," she told him approvingly. "I order you to teach me how to do that."

Legolas laughed and ruffled her hair as he walked past to retrieve his arrows. "Find yourself a bow and arrows that feel right first."

"How am I supposed to find those? They don't grow on trees, you know."

"Imagine how _I_ feel when I lose an arrow. That is one arrow I'm never going to get back, and I need mine more than you do," he said in answer to that. "We've still got a long way to go, and plenty of enemies in our path, and everything in my quiver is irreplaceable if broken. Focus more on your sword and daggers; they don't break so easily."

"Fine," Cat sighed. "But I'm holding you to those lessons."

They both broke into a run to catch up with the others, with more of the mystery falling into place in Legolas' mind.

~o0o~

"Remember to keep your swords up, those fighting you will always go for the head first," Boromir commanded as Merry and Pippin stood against him, both holding a short sword each, which Arya had _borrowed_ from Rivendell.

Merry was the first to try his luck, running up to Boromir with a yell.

Aragorn watched them quietly, smoking on his pipe, while Arya, Gandalf and Legolas were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of this rocky clearing on the top of a hill as a place to sleep the night.

He smiled slightly at Arya's loud exclamations and hand-waving, and Legolas' long-suffering expression as he tried to explain, while Gandalf just stood to the side looking amused. Thinking about her interactions with the Fellowship, he was really glad that she had managed to open up a bit to Legolas.

It wasn't hard to miss that she now felt comfortable enough to sleep while it was himself or Legolas watching through the nights. He only hoped that Arya would be able to figure out and heal the heartbreak she was suffering from due to her past; she tried to hide it with her over-the-top behaviour, but he knew it was there.

Nymeria ran up to him from the forest cover, Morry bounding energetically beside her, and both wolves lay down beside him, the direwolf panting in exhaustion.

Morry pushed his furry head into Aragorn's free hand, and he laughed as he began to scratch the cub's fur. "How was the hunt?"

Morry yipped happily, his tail wagging.

Nymeria huffed out a frustrated breath and buried her head between her paws.

"That bad, girl?" Arya asked as she sat down next to Aragorn. "I thought it was getting better!"

The direwolf let out a short howl of annoyance, butting her muzzle into Morry's back. He let out a startled bark, scrambling up and away from his previous place, which Nymeria then dragged herself to, giving Morry a wolf-glare as Aragorn shook his head and began scratching her fur too.

"Come here, boy," Arya called. Merry's ears perked up and he jumped onto the rock she was sat on, lying beside her while she patted his shoulder. "Just keep trying, alright? Nym has hunted on her own for a decade, and she needs time to adjust to an incompetent cub joining her and scaring away all the food with its enthusiasm."

The cub huffed, but didn't argue further, knowing that she was right.

With Nymeria calming down after the disappointment of a failed hunt, Arya turned to Aragorn. "What are you doing?"

"Smoking a pipe," he answered as he blew out a puff of smoke.

"Can I try?" she asked curiously.

"Sure you can handle it?" he asked her teasingly.

"Of course I can!" she said indignantly.

He passed it over to her, trying to hide his smile. "Don't breathe too quickly, or you might choke. Keep it slow and steady, and try not to start coughing."

Arya sniffed it suspiciously, then took a careful breath through the pipe. Almost immediately she started coughing as the vile taste of the smoke filled her mouth.

Aragorn was quick to pull the pipe from her to stop any more smoke going into her lungs. "Are you alright?"

She had stopped coughing by that time, but the horrid taste still lingered. "Are you trying to poison yourself with that? Because I'd say you're succeeding," she choked out.

"Go drink some water," he advised her, putting the end of the pipe in his mouth and breathing in deeply. He just heard her muttering about crazy people as she left, still coughing occasionally as she walked to Bill, who looked on patiently as she rooted around the supplies on his back.

Nymeria batted the edge of his cloak with one paw.

"She brought that on herself," he chuckled in reply.

The direwolf huffed good-naturedly as he continued to scratch behind her ears, and gave a lick of forgiveness to Morry when he curled up beside her again.

~o0o~

Arya was sitting with the waterskin when Merry and Pippin clamoured for a break, which Boromir agreed to.

Sam and Frodo were just about to do the same with Gimli when he gave them a fearsome glare. Any queries were swallowed and they continued with their sword-fighting lesson.

"Pass the water," Boromir requested as he sat down next to Arya.

She tossed it to him, and he caught it with his left hand and took a large gulp of the precious liquid inside.

"You fight well, even when you are holding back," she remarked once he had finished.

"I had lessons ever since I was four years old, I have to fight well," Boromir replied. "As does my brother."

"You have a brother?" she asked in surprise.

He nodded thoughtfully. "His name is Faramir."

"Younger or older?"

"Younger." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "He's the lucky one, with no responsibilities or ties. If he ever wants, he can leave with no repercussions, but I cannot."

"Aye, I know a thing or two about unwanted responsibility, but is it really so hard to be the heir to a kingdom?"

"I want the best for my people," he admitted quietly. "I want them to live without the shadows hanging over their heads, I want the children to be able to laugh without fear of what evils tomorrow will bring, I want them to be happy, but I don't know if I can manage to make that happen."

Looking around quickly while Boromir was lost in his thoughts, Arya noticed that Frodo was quite far away, and that the Ring's hold on Boromir was loosening, evident by the sharpening clearness in his brown eyes.

She caught a glimpse of his face and realised that he really did care for his people. "Why are you worried about that? I'm sure you would be a great Steward," she tried to reassure him awkwardly. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Legolas call to the Hobbits and lead them out into the woods.

As soon as Frodo was out of sight, Boromir's eyes cleared completely.

"You say I would be a great Steward of Gondor, but being good and being great are two different things," he said hurriedly as he got up and began to pace. "My father is great, yes, but corruption is running rife through my country, with honesty and the truer virtues nearly forgotten, and I do not want that to happen, but I am powerless to stop it. I do not pretend to be the best man, I do long for power as well, and I know the Ring is calling to me to take it. I am truly sorry for what I have said to you and the others under its influence."

He looked really worried now, and Arya tried to break in but he cut her off. "If it meant my people would be safe, I'd be glad for Aragorn to take his rightful throne, but I still do not know enough of him to see if he would be a good leader for Gondor. We need a strong ruler, now more than ever, and I know I'm not strong enough!"

By now, those remaining in the clearing were giving Boromir worried looks at the loudness of his voice and the anguish coming across in it.

He ignored them as he caught Arya's forearm and looked her right in the eyes. "Please, if I try anything with Frodo and the Ring, stop me, in any possible way you can. Swear it!"

"I swear that I will stop you by any means," she said immediately, because she could tell just how much this meant to him. The fear and desperation in his eyes were completely real, as was the utter relief - the same emotions she had felt when running from the Lannisters, and when she finally managed to get it the House of Black and White.

The positive feelings hadn't lasted very long.

Aragorn had had enough by then and came over to see what was going on with the uncharacteristic behaviour. "Boromir? Is anything wrong?" he asked at the sight of the man's troubled expression.

The son of the Steward of Gondor opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his eyes darkened and his face changed to a sneer. "That is nothing concerning any of you," he said coolly, turning away from both of them, just as Legolas and the Hobbits reappeared, carrying and eating some new berries.

"Boromir," Arya said suddenly.

He had a condescending look on his face as he turned back to her, but it turned to surprise when she unslung his sword from her back and offered it to him.

"It must be hard to teach sword fighting without a proper sword," was her only explanation.

"Really?" he asked as he took it.

She shrugged. "It was really heavy as well."

It might just have been her imagination, but there was a faint smile on his face as he walked away.

Arya and Aragorn shared a glance as Boromir again began to teach Merry and Pippin, whose mouths were now stained with berry juice.

"The Ring's grip on him is very powerful," she warned. "Watch out for him and Frodo."

He nodded. "And you watch over yourself; it is not an easy thing to keep such a promise."

"Don't worry about me," she said quietly. "I'm sure I'll live past anything he tries to do to me if it ever comes to a fight between us."

"I'll be watching out for you anyway."

"Is that a promise?" she asked with a sparkle in her grey eyes.

"Of course it is," he said sincerely. "I have to make sure this world turns out better for you than the last one, don't I?"

She hugged him then. "You really are stupid," she told him affectionately, then walked away to Legolas.

He smiled as he looked down to the familiar tugging at his boots. "Off, Moregul. Nymeria has got better food for you."

Morry whined at his full name, then gave Aragorn's boot a final chew and scampered off to the dead deer Nymeria was holding in her mouth as she emerged from the forest.

~o0o~

"Do you know every single edible plant in this world?" Arya asked Legolas as they stood scanning their surroundings together.

"Mostly those that belong to the forest, but not every single one," he answered distractedly as he peered at the sky.

"What is that?" Sam asked as he stopped cooking some food and also looked at where Legolas was gazing.

"That is just a cloud," Gimli pronounced from where he too was looking at a black smudge above the sky.

"It's moving fast, and against the wind," Boromir observed as he shielded his eyes to see it.

They all remained frozen there, the seconds ticking by awfully slowly as the black mass continued to make its way nearer.

Arya risked a glance at Legolas, and caught the first signs of understanding in his eyes.

"Crebain from the Highlands!" he yelled out.

"Saruman's spies! Hide!" Gandalf roared, and just like that they all scattered.

Sam put out the fire, covered the smoking remains and then hid behind an overhang of rocks, Legolas and the others found various hiding places around the rocky clearing, and Nymeria picked up the deer carcass and sprinted down the hill with Morry hot on her trail.

Meanwhile, Arya and Aragorn grabbed the supplies and quickly lead Bill the pony into the densest trees closest to them, the surge of adrenaline causing them to move faster than usual. Thankfully, there were very thick bushes as well, which were extremely useful in hiding them from sight.

It was only as the first black bird-like creatures began to fly over the clearing that Aragorn stiffened beside her. "My pipe," he hissed urgently.

Arya looked at the clearing and had to stamp down the instinct of running to get it and hiding again, as well as the new feeling of anxiety; it was lying on top of a white rock, unmissable and indistinguishable. It was just a strange piece of luck that the Crebain hadn't noticed it yet.

She didn't think; she just felt that strange tug in her mind as she focused on one of the birds, and then she **was** the bird, opening her beady black eyes to scan the clearing below herself, the wind singing beneath her wings, the sun shining gently on her feathered back.

Swooping down over the clearing, she focused on that thin object of wood, and dived down to grip it with her talons, then flung it into a crevice in the stones. Looking around herself at the creatures flying beside her, she noticed with relief that none of them had spotted her.

With a sense of anger rising in her chest, she decided to make the most of this new form.

Screeching angrily, she flew at the closest bird to her and drove her beak into its back, talons tearing at its wings.

The unfortunate creature squawked and tried to fight back, but it was too late as her beak snapped its neck. It died right then and there, and she was off to kill a second, and then a third.

However, it was then that the other Crebain noticed, and with a screech one caught her across the back with its talons.

Her creature cried out from the pain, but the sting of it flung her from the mind of the foreign body.

With a gasp, her own grey eyes opened again, only to realise that Aragorn was holding her up.

"You lost consciousness," he whispered worriedly.

"You are warm," she whispered back as she pointed to the sky, where her creature was defending itself angrily. Steadily, more and more Crebain were drawn into the fight until the entire sky above them was a furious rolling storm of black.

Wounded and dead creatures were falling to the ground every moment as the fight went on, and the remaining had forgotten their original purpose of spying as they tore each other apart, moving from the clearing while their numbers continued to decrease thoroughly.

"The one that moved my pipe, that was you?" he whispered in surprise at the smug smile on her face.

She grinned and nodded, but then her face fell. "Please don't tell the others," she whispered pleadingly as she got on her own two feet again and looked him in the eyes.

Aragorn looked unsure. "I'm don't know what you just did, but if you don't want me telling the others, then I won't."

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Nothing more was said as they watched the still-fighting Crebain fade out of sight.

It was only then that they dared to emerge from their hiding places, and Legolas took it on himself to cut the throats of the creatures that were still moving.

"I think we should thank that one Crebain," he commented. "Now Saruman's spies have largely decreased in number, and any account of us will be distorted, if indeed an account there will be."

Arya was only glad that none of them mentioned the strange actions of one creature after that as Aragorn retrieved his dirty but intact pipe.

"The passage south must be being watched," Gandalf said worriedly. "We cannot go through it now. We will have to cross over the Misty Mountains."

"We could go through the mines of Moria," Gimli offered. "My cousin, Balin, would give us a hearty welcome!"

Gandalf's face darkened. "I would not go through the mines of Moria unless I had no ther choice, Gimli son of Gloin."

Gimli glowered at Gandalf, but said nothing further, almost as if taking the wizard's word for granted.

Arya, however, could see more than the dwarf. "What are you hiding from us, Gandalf? The mines must be safe if they are run by dwarves who are our allies, surely more than any other way, where we would not freeze or have to worry about starvation, and the mention of them should not send fear across your face. What are you not telling us?"

He gave her a measuring look, but evidently found her lacking, for he ignored her question. "We must go through the Pass of Caradhras," he announced, pointing up at the great and dangerous looking mountains, with snow covering their peaks and the wind blowing great whirlwinds of ice and clouds between the peaks.

"We are going to starve and freeze on a mountain," Arya stated flatly. "Oh, _joy_."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"What?!"

The yell of anger was loud enough that the Orcs working in the pits paused and looked up to see what was going on. They went back to work hurriedly as soon as Saruman stormed through the caverns, a tattered looking Crebain flapping in the air next to his head.

The white wizard snarled as he processed the news. "You saw nothing, because you were fighting amongst yourselves? Why on earth were you not doing your job?!"

The creature whimpered, but cleverly didn't turn to fly from the wizard.

Taking a deep breath, Saruman calmed himself down, though his tone was still cold and sharp. "You are lucky there are so few of you left, or else you would die, but I will be merciful. Go and tell the others that any more mistakes will _not_ be tolerated."

It flapped away as fast as it could, and the wizard looked around the cavern to see how the work on his army was progressing.

The heat from the forges created a hot and stifling atmosphere, the screeches of Orcs and the clangs of metal dulled by the muggy air, losing their coherency but not their volume, and Saruman felt a twisted sense of pleasure run through him at how fast his new warriors were being created, as well as their weapons and armour.

With one last hawkish glance around himself, he swept out of the caverns, the din following him to the outside world, where yet more Orcs were tearing down the mighty old trees surrounding Isengard.

He paid them no heed, entering his fortress and climbing through it to the very top of its tower, just to revel in the idea that this all belonged to him, that as Sauron's servant he would live by his master's side as a powerful wizard.

Not like Gandalf the Grey; he had chosen death, and Saruman would be glad to carry out his wishes.

By this time, he had used his magic to carry himself to the top of Isengard's tallest tower, and stood there, his staff by his side, gazing malevolently at the Misty Mountains.

"If I know you, old friend," he whispered sarcastically to himself, "then you'll have noticed my Crebain, and would have chosen a different path. You know what lies in Moria after all, and I do not believe you have the heart to face it."

Saruman raised his staff and began to chant into the air.

~o0o~

The snow felt like home.

She laughed at the wind blowing snowflakes against her, and was off at a run, dancing through the drifts and across the ice. It was only here that she felt free, in the cold and the snow, the place where she belonged, because a direwolf belongs in the North and in the snow, where it can live and hunt and belong.

Nymeria howled in joy beside her, racing across the mountain-side, the wind rippling through her hair.

"I'll be back!" she called happily to the others, and ran off into the misty snowfall, Nymeria by her side, fully intending to enjoy this moment as best she could.

"Will she be alright?" Frodo asked Sam worriedly.

"I'm sure Miss Cat will take care of herself," he soothed, though in reality he _wasn't_ sure how wise it was to leave the others like that. But she just looked so happy and carefree right then, and the Hobbit wanted her to stay like that.

If it meant she ran off, then that is what would have to happen.

"Come on," Frodo said to him, and together they increased the pace of their walking to catch up to Gandalf and Legolas.

Aragorn watched Arya and Nymeria's disappearing figures with a frown on his face, almost as though he was debating whether or not to call them back, but reached the conclusion that Sam had and the realisation that he would not have held her back, even if he had enough of her respect to do so.

He told the others quickly that Cat would be gone for a while, and turned back to aid Sam and Frodo, who had fallen slightly behind.

Sam was holding up well, glancing occasionally at Frodo, who was looking pale and tired.

They didn't notice the patch of ice they were walking on until it was too late.

Sam managed to keep his balance, but Frodo slipped and fell.

What happened next were the most tense five minutes of Sam's life, even including the time they were running from the Ringwraiths.

The Hobbit finally breathed a sign of relief when Boromir gave the Ring back to Frodo and rejoined the dwarf, elf and wizard.

"Let's continue," Aragorn said to them, and they all kept going forward on their way, worries about Arya pushed aside by the fears of what awaited them on their journey, and the possible corruption that could attack them even from within the Fellowship.

It was only when they were edging across a narrow path carved across the face of the mountain that Legolas sensed something different, and Gandalf tried to fight Saruman's power, but failed, and they were buried under an avalanche of rocks and snow.

~o0o~

A dainty snowflake floated past her, so she reached out with one hand and caught it on her bared palm.

There was a slight tingling of cold as it began to melt, turning to a clear blue droplet of water in the middle of her hand, and she let it slip through her fingers and to the snow-covered ground.

Nymeria delicately snapped up another snowflake in her mouth with a long tongue, sneezing suddenly as yet more snowflakes landed on her black muzzle.

Arya smiled and ran her hand through the fur on top of Nymeria's large head, a breeze picking up slightly to move the icy crystals into beautiful patterns on the mountainside.

Even in Winterfell, she had not seen winter at its true and devastating beauty.

Yes, she had been told stories about the power of ice, had even found a man frozen to death in the stables during the winter when she had just turned three years old, but she had never been able to experience it for herself.

She closed her eyes, feeling the solid warmth of Nymeria by her side and the wildness of the cold surrounding her, and remembered one of her happiest memories.

It had happened during the last winter she had ever known in Westeros, when she had been four years of age, Bran a chubby baby born just a year ago, and her mother's stomach was large and round with Rickon.

She remembered the way her father had ruffled her hair while she, Sansa, Robb and Jon gathered around Catelyn to offer their happiness for the new member of their family, Bran giggling in the way babies do as Eddard held him gently.

Her mother had smiled and laughed with them as Sansa cooed over the unborn baby, unshakeable in her belief that it would be a girl, Jon with a smile that spoke volumes about his joy at being included and his new sibling, Robb boasting that he would show it how to hunt well enough to capture a giant, and her father calmly pointing out that Robb was barely old enough to handle a sword without supervision.

Of course, she herself broke through the ensuing argument by proudly claiming that she would teach it to be the best fighter, archer and horse rider in the Seven Kingdoms. They had all ruffled her hair and given her a group hug at that, Catelyn laughing happily as she kissed her daughter's forehead, while Eddard promised to let her learn how to fight with a twinkling in his eyes.

It was then that a snowflake had drifted in through the open window and landed on her hair, and her family had proudly proclaimed her a true winter child.

She smiled at the memory, a sense of peace inside her as she realised that along with the painful memories, there were beautiful ones as well.

It wasn't enough to completely heal her broken heart, but here on this snowy mountain-top with her faithful companion by her side, she felt freer than before as she realised that her family wouldn't want her to change herself, just so she could selfishly hide from reality and the horrors that had befallen them.

But still... there were a few memories that she had to tackle, ones where she knew her pain and rage had truly escaped from her. No one in this world apart from her knew of this, not even Aragorn, and she doubted anyone ever would.

It was important though.

It was the day she was confined to the House of Black and White. It was the day she lost her sight. It was the day she learned what happened to Sansa.

 ** _The girl looked up from her wheelbarrow of oysters as she heard a familiar name in the hushed conversation of two_** ** _Braavosi_** ** _sailors._**

 **" _... las_** ** _'_** ** _Stark... married..." one of them hissed under his breath._**

 **" _... to who... not possible... dead..." the other replied in the same way, yet intrigue creased his features._**

 **" _...no_** ** _'_** ** _dead, alive..."_**

 ** _By that time, the girl's curiosity got the better of her. Regardless of her quest to become one of the Faceless, she had not forgotten her family just yet._** ** _What the Kindly Man didn't know wouldn't hurt him, after all._**

 ** _Calmly abandoning her wheelbarrow, she walked up to them confidently. Both the sailors noticed her at around the same time and broke off their conversation, their faces twisting into sneers meant to intimidate. "Alrigh' lass, wha' do ye wan'? Bea' i' before we give ye a hidin' to remember."_**

 **" _What were you talking of just now?" the girl asked patiently, her Braavosi and accent flawless._**

 ** _Immediately both of them scowled. "Nothin' ye need to know abou'. Scoo', lass."_**

 ** _The girl smiled pleasantly, a small money-bag appearing in her hand as if by magic. "What were you talking of just now?"_**

 ** _Their eyes widened with greed, then the sailors shared a furtive glance._**

 ** _Opening the money-bag, the girl shook a few gold coins into the palm of her hand, making sure the remaining contents of the bag jingled merrily._**

 ** _With a muttered curse, the burlier one snatched the money-bag from the girl's hands. "The las' Stark girl was married off to the Bolton bastard a month ago, the one with a reputation for flaying and huntin' women. One of the Greyjoy pirate scum was there as well, apparently he's an experiment the Snow is workin' on._** ** _Their vows were said a month ago, and the Stark was delivered by the new Arryn lord, whose sigil is some kind of bird. Now shoo!_** ** _"_** ** _He flapped his hands at her to make her run off._**

 ** _The girl simply smiled serenely and walked_** ** _away_** ** _._**

 ** _The sailors didn't see the fire burning in her veins. They didn't see her go to the pier and retrieve Needle._**

 ** _But they did see her return. And they were the first whose throats she slit._**

 **Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Arya shook off the memory. It would do her no good to dwell** **on it** **, especially** **since it** **was in the past, something she couldn't change, but it was the first time she had really lost control, and in a way that had brutal consequences.**

 **She couldn't remember exact figures, but she knew she had caused the deaths of over fifty that day, before the Kindly Man had finally confronted her and dragged her back inside the House of Balack and White, kicking and screaming, and** **had** **dr** **u** **nk the poison meant for her eyes** **while wearing her face** **.**

 **One of the worse happenings was that the Kindly Man had been recognised, and further rumour had linked him to the order of the Faceless, especially when the watching crowds had seen them reenter the House.**

 **Because of how deadly and uncontrolled she had proven to be,** __faith in the Faceless Men had dropped, as people had begun to think that they were dangerous and not to be trusted to get an assassination done. Pretty soon, rumours about it had spread to Westeros itself.

Due to this, anyone who wanted someone dead turned to other assassins, which had led to a huge loss of revenue for the House of Black and White, and the Kindly Man had not been happy about that. He had personally blamed Arya for the crisis his order were now going through, and so as a punishment he took her sight, with no intention of giving it back. Her other senses were also tested one by one, but she remained blind through it all, because the Kindly Man could and would hold a grudge.

Through the next eight years that Arya had trained there, she had not been allowed outside, yet another punishment. The Kindly Man must have known that she had still not been fully accepting of the idea of giving away her true name, and he had been resolved that these punishments would last until she did, but as the years dragged on he must have realised that it was not going to happen any time soon.

It was only know that Arya realised what the training with the Waif had been, along with the water from the fountain; it must have been the final test. Which she had failed.

Nymeria whined lowly, rubbing her muzzle into Arya's shoulder, who smiled slightly, letting her fingers run through the thich fur on top of Nymeria's head.

Internally, she wondered where that placed her on the compass of morality. Although she did want to help those who couldn't help themselves, she had come to realise throughout the years that one person couldn't save everyone. If it was possible for her to help someone she didn't know without endangering those she cared for, she would, but if it came to a choice between the innocent person and someone she cared for, such as the Hobbits, and now Aragorn, or Arwen, she would always choose the person she had a close relationship to.

Because of this, for her it had literally been a choice between her sister and the many people of Braavos. She had snapped when she heard the news about the marriage because all she could think of at the time was the torture that her sister had to be going through, so she had walked out with only one goal in her mind, to get to Westeros to save her sister. However, when she got to the port, seeing those two sailors with the loose mouths had only destroyed the final shreds of sanity she had possessed.

More sailors from the neighbouring ships had seen and tried to stop her, but she had killed them as well, until a full blown brawl on the docks was spurred into motion, Arya being small and agile enough to avoid harm while continuing to kill, angry enough that she did not stop, even when she should have.

 **It took the Kindly Man to stop her then, and Arya was terrified of what would happen if she lost control now. Granted, it hadn't happened yet, but she had already come close so many times, and that scared her more than anything.**

Opening her closed eyes to a glittering landscape of icy structures and brilliant white snow, Arya silently vowed to herself that she would speak to Aragorn. Staying silent about who she was had only been bringing her more pain, she realised now, hiding behind a mask even when her face was her own.

Maybe Aragorn would help her learn how to control herself. If he didn't condemn her as a monster first; she wouldn't blame him if he did, but at least there was a sense of fragile hope that hadn't been there before.

A burden slipped off her shoulders and she turned to smile sadly at Nymeria. "Well Nym, it's time I grew up. Better late than never, after all, adventure of self-discovery and all that, like one of those silly stories Sansa used to love." She laughed bittersweetly. "Either way, the Fellowship is capable enough to go on without me, and there is this feeling inside me, calling me to take a different path, as corny as that sounds."

The direwolf tipped her head back and howled hopefully, the sound reverberating across the rocky sounds until it sounded like Nymeria was howling with her pack again.

Arya laughed too. "I fully agree, Nym, I fully agree!"

~o0o~

Aragorn was the first to break out of the heavy blanket of snow, freezing cold but unharmed.

Coughing out mouthfuls of the glittering white substance, he hauled himself out and stood shakily, looking around and heaving himself over to a piece of leather sticking above the snow line.

Gripping it, he pulled out a spluttering Frodo, with Legolas the next to surface. "Have we got everyone?" he yelled to be heard above the roaring wind.

"Where's Cat?" Boromir choked out as he helped free a buried Gandalf.

Aragorn looked around quickly, and then sudden fear appeared on his face. "We have to find her! Immediately!"

Sam latched onto his arm just before he threw himself at the snow, fully intending to dig until he found her. "She's not here! She left half an hour ago, remember, with Nymeria!"

The relief that spread over the faces of the Fellowship was instantaneous, though it was quickly followed by worry.

"I had forgotten that in my panic," Aragorn confessed. "But she is still out here in this raging blizzard, in a dangerous place, and she is not with us!"

The Hobbits huddled together worriedly, starting to shiver as the icy wind continued swirling around them, the cold stabbing like knives into their skin.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir yelled, holding the reins of the spooked pony, Morry huddled against his legs. "Wherever Cat is, she can look after herself. Right now, we have to get off this mountain!"

Aragorn focused himself with a new grimness, the safety of the Fellowship utmost in his thoughts, but right next to it was a nagging fear that Arya was gone, and would not come back.

~o0o~

Right there, on that snowy covering with the cloudy sky above her and Nymeria by her side, Arya felt the strange feeling solidify into an unmistakeable path of silver, a strange music calling her to follow it to the south-east, the tune familiar yet unplaceable to her mind.

"You hear it too, girl?" she murmered to Nym.

The direwolf nodded, a strangely human gesture.

Arya shook her head fondly and gave Nymeria a good scratch behind the ears. "I hope they'll be alright, and won't think I've abandoned them," she said worriedly all of a sudden.

Nymeria whined sadly, but nudged Arya forward, away from the direction of the Fellowship.

She guessed then that Nymeria felt the strange pull too, and her friend had never steered her wrong before. If Nymeria felt they had to go to it, then they had to go to it, it was as simple as that.

Looking back one last time, she silently wished the Fellowship good fortune and the speed of the gods, and to two of them in particular the best of luck, and broke into a run as she faced forward once more, Nymeria settling into pace beside her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The night was dark.

Not a soothing darkness, one where warm and sated wolves slept in their den without fear of hunger and death, and the cubs curled up to their peaceful mothers under the protective watch of the fathers.

It was a darkness when the pack ran through the spindly trees, hunger in their bellies and hatred in their yellow eyes, baying for blood, while the people huddled next to the fire with weapons clutched tight in their white and shaking fingers.

She knew it well; she had grown up with it, in the harshness of the North, even if she had been safe behind the walls of Winterfell.

Mere flesh and blood couldn't break through stone, after all.

Yet as she waited, hidden in the leafy crowns of trees and watching the goblins screech as they tore down the ancient oaks, she couldn't help but think that the monsters being created might be able to.

Having seen enough, she turned and began jumping swiftly from tree to tree, immensely grateful for her slight build and weight, light enough that no deformed creature noticed her presence.

Even if they had, she was sure she could be gone before they raised the alarm, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and even one of the Faceless wouldn't be able to withstand hundreds of the monsters; she wasn't that arrogant to try.

Soon enough, the noise of the destruction ceased, though the red glow remained over the sky and she saw no animal brave enough to venture near.

Arya dropped to the ground and ran, avoiding the grabbing thorns of the trees and the roots raised to trip her up and force her to make a sound, however small.

It was only when the noise of birds rang out again and she could hear the scurrying of small animals in the undergrowth that she relaxed fractionally.

Whistling softly, she waited for a few moments, until a large shape formed from the shadows and Nymeria prowled over to her companion.

Arya gestured with a slight tilt of her head, and the two of them started to run, past the fortress of black stone and the army around it.

The only problem they had was when a pair of goblins spotted them and began to shriek loudly.

They were killed quickly enough, but she knew that there would be more, and so didn't bother to hide the bodies. There wasn't enough time, and once it was discovered, the two of them would be long gone, with no trail left behind to be followed.

Besides, with a few more slashes on their bodies, the deed could easily pass for the work of one of the Warg packs that roamed this countryside.

Nymeria was an alpha, yes, but these were monsters that only barely held to their wolf origins.

One of the beliefs she had was that the pack they had met with the Fellowship had gained more true wolf blood as they ran wild, and Morry's intelligence and happy nature was a strange coincidence that would never be repeated, as the true Wargs were nothing more than monsters; there was nothing in their eyes but the feral gleam of hatred and destruction.

It was only with Nymeria's help that she had gotten out of that one encounter alive, and it was only because of Arwen's gauntlet that her forearm wasn't horribly mangled, though the scratches might never be removed from its steel surface.

Once they had run for what she deemed long enough, she gestured for Nymeria to wait as she scaled a tree, the gnarled bark scratching her hands and the thin twigs catching in her hair while she climbed until she was high enough to see over the canopy.

The tall black tower of Isengard loomed ominously over the tree line, small specks moving around it, and the red glow emanating from the pits dug deep into the earth, tall mountains rising to the tower's side.

She suppressed a shiver as she dropped to the ground again. The white path in her mind had given her a route to this place, and she was immensely grateful that it had; what this world would face was beyond anything she had ever seen before, and if she was being honest with herself, she knew that she didn't want to stay here at all.

But that was a stupid wish; selfish and stupid, and she knew it wasn't possible.

Not yet anyway, and besides, she was not going anywhere with the Hobbits and the Fellowship still in danger.

It was somewhat ironic though, as she had already left them to follow the strange calling she felt, and it was something she was heavily regretting now that she knew what horrors faced them; the only one she could trust to fully defend the Hobbits was Aragorn.

Maybe Legolas.

Not Gandalf; he was more focused on the Ring being destroyed at any cost.

Not Boromir; he was more focused on the Ring itself.

And Gimli... well, she wasn't quite sure about him. Yes, he could be loud and brash, but he had a good heart, she could tell.

She shook her head clear of these thoughts and continued running on, the line twisting through the trees and curving ever so slightly. All Arya could do was hope that they all stayed alive while she was gone, and that she would rejoin them soon. She just needed this stupid path to end somewhere.

~o0o~

 **AN: It's a magic path that shortens distance. So, instead of running one mile, Arya and Nymeria actually run roughly five miles, and so it takes them much shorter than it should to get to Isengard and back. They don't know that, though. Use your imaginations as to how it is possible, or just accept it.**

~o0o~

Four days later, the two of them were back in a forest, except this forest had massive trees, beautiful golden-leaved trees that practically radiated safety and peace, the dawn light of the sun casting mesmerising patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.

She continued walking, Nymeria snarling now and then, until finally she had had enough.

" **Are you going to reveal yourselves or not**?" she calmly announced to the cold air as she kept walking forward, Nymeria silent by her side. " **I am neither blind, nor deaf, and I know that you are there.** "

There was a long silence in the trees, with not even a branch twitching. Arya rolled her eyes and continued moving, pretty sure that the elves watching her were having a furious conversation of facial expressions to each other to decide whether to show themselves or not.

There was a sudden rustling in the trees ahead, and three melted out of the dappled shade, weapons drawn and ready and pointed at her.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He had light blonde hair, the same as Legolas, but there was an aura of steady authority around him that was impossible to miss, and his grey-green eyes were hard and piercing. His stance told her that he knew very well how to handle the bow and arrow that he had angled to the ground, yet was still ready to use.

" **Your companion must go no further**."

Strangely enough, Nymeria did not take offence to this, her ears pricked forward as she took in their scent, her tail wagging slowly. There was the perfect mix of curiosity and recognition in her knowing golden eyes.

" **My companion is my companion and she goes where I go** ," Arya returned calmly as she gracefully came to a halt ten paces before him. " **The call was sent to both of us, and so we both shall answer it.** "

" **I will take you to the Lady Galadriel,"** he said in reply to that, replacing his bow and arrow and turning to move forward into the forest. " **She will decide whether the direwolf will stay or not.** "

The two other elves moved away into the trees at a quick signal from him, probably off to patrol another place, while Arya calmly stepped into place beside him.

He looked at her quickly. " **I was not aware you knew where the city of Lorien is."**

 **"The call leads there,"** she said simply, her tone and face expressionless. " **I will follow it."**

The elf said nothing, just continued walking, scanning their surroundings carefully.

Arya noticed this, and couldn't resist making a comment. " **Having problems with the trees? Wood-rot, maybe?"**

 **"Dangerous creatures are not meant to be made fun off,"** he warned her coldly. **"Not when they have been venturing ever closer."**

" **What type of dangerous creatures?"** Arya didn't apologise, but it seemed that he had expected that.

He looked her up and down. **"You have your own weapons. Good. If there is any reason for it, do not be afraid to use them."**

 **"Why on earth would I be** **afraid?** " she asked, not really offended by the question, but wanting to know the answer anyway.

" **There are some** **e** **lves who do not like to cause death,"** he stated, his features still giving nothing away.

" **I am not one of them."**

They walked in silence for a while, Arya having to speed up her strides somewhat because his legs were longer, but the lack of noise was starting to grate on her nerves.

" **You never did answer my question about which dangerous creatures you are dealing with,"** she pointed out, stroking Nymeria's fur thoughtfully.

His head snapped up quickly as a branch cracked somewhere above, then he returned his gaze to the forest around them when he saw it was only a squirrel. **"I do not know which monsters they are exactly, but there have been** **o** **rcs,** **g** **oblins, and a couple of** **w** **args."**

 **"Is it usually this quiet?"** she asked, not missing the sudden tightness on his face, and could easily read that the answer to that question was clearly no.

 **"The attacks only started some years ago as random venturings of one creature at a time, but now they happen monthly in large groups. The majority of my people have taken to staying in the city for safety, while patrols have increased, hence the unnatural silence."**

 **"Mmm. Well, you should really get that one that was with you a better bow; I heard it creaking all the way from the ground while he was trying to stay hidden in that tree. He was the one with that really complicated braid in his hair, by the way."**

The elf let out a small sigh of annoyance. **"Do not be too harsh on him; he has only just started his training. After all, everyone makes mistakes."** His face turned hard suddenly, and she got the sudden feeling that she did _not_ want to get on his bad side. **"Mistakes that are never repeated."**

 **"How badly do your fellow** **e** **lves fear and respect you?"**

He gave her a look that told her it was none of business.

She wasn't deterred though. **"You obviously hold some power among them, and they followed** ** _your_** **signal, so it is easy to infer that you are superior to them in some way. Who are you exactly, the general of the forces? Oh, and you never told me your name."**

 **"You will find out soon enough, and if I recall, you never told me yours, so I owe you nothing."**

 **"If I am going to find out soon enough, you might as well tell me now, and I asked for your name first."** By this time, she could hear some strains of beautiful music through the trees ahead, and the white path in her mind was going to come to an end soon, she could feel it.

" **You never know who is listening, even here."**

Arya lifted a shoulder. " **True enough. One more question though."**

 **"Go ahead,"** he said, sounding faintly annoyed but still patient.

" **How do you know that Nymeria is a direwolf?** "

 **"That,"** he said, suddenly looking very serious, **"is something I cannot tell you, because it was not I who knew."**

 **"Who then?"** Arya looked at him curiously, Nymeria giving him the same expression.

He smiled slightly, the first positive emotion she had seen on his face, and he looked completely different with it. More open, more friendly, and, dare she think it? More handsome.

Alright, so don't get her wrong, she didn't go pining after every nice guy she saw, but there were a lot of really good-looking males in this world and she couldn't _help_ but notice. Especially since she had not seen any handsome guys in Westeros, but to be fair, she was just a child at that time.

A child, on the run, trying to hide and _she was not going to think about that._

So instead, she thought about the unfairness of it all. Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, this elf, every other elf she had seen - she felt like a pig in comparison.

 **"It is rude to stare** ," he said as he gave her a sharp look, snapping her out of it, the smile gone from his face.

" **It is rude not to answer a question someone ask** **s** ," she returned pointedly.

" **It will be answered soon enough** ," he told her. " **Welcome to the** **e** **lven city of Lorien**."

She looked around. The path ended here, in the middle of the forest, and the music was really loud, yet she saw nothing but... " **I had no idea your people and buildings could turn into trees. Must be a very good defensive tactic**."

" **Look up** ," he said shortly, quite possibly frustrated with her. Alright, scratch that, she _knew_ he was frustrated. She would be feeling that too if she had to talk to herself for longer than five minutes.

She did as he advised, then stayed like that for a long time, blinking to take it all in. " **Wow.** "

He waited until she took her gaze off the beautiful city up there in the trees. " **What do you think of it?"**

 **"It is magical,"** she said simply.

 **"It is,"** he agreed, moving to one of the trees, an ornate staircase revealing itself that lead up to the silver buildings and the golden walkways high up in the branches. " **The Lady Galadriel is expecting you at once, regardless of your appearance**." Once again, Arya felt filthy as she took in her mud-covered clothes and the way she reeked. " **You can freshen up afterwards, but it is too important for this meeting to happen now; there are a lot of important things to discuss**."

" **Such as**?" she asked as she began to climb up after him.

 **"I think you already know,"** he said without pause.

Nymeria huffed in agreement as she delicately placed her paws on each step, a bit unsure if the stairs would hold her weight but not about to stay on the ground while her companion walked into a place filled with possible danger.

" **The direwolf comes too, then**?" he asked somewhat resignedly, perfectly able to hear Nymeria's panting.

 **"She goes where I go**."

And they kept climbing up to the elven city of Lorien, Arya wondering just what the mysterious Lady Galadriel could possibly want to discuss with her, even if she had the feeling that she already knew.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

She knew the elves were staring. She knew they were whispering to themselves, wondering who this newcomer with the hooded face was, discussing the possible reasons for why the tall elf beside her was escorting her through the walkways between the trees.

Haldir, she heard his name was, and she could also see that he was respected.

Those they met instantly moved aside, inclining their heads to him slightly, and he returned the symbol of acknowledge with a tilt of his own head.

Nymeria was padding along behind them, ignoring those who stared and pointed, her golden eyes glowing with pride and haughtiness. Those were the same emotions Arya had, her head held high and a mask of stone perfectly covering her features, even if it was only half-visible under her black hood.

In all probability, such a cold expression wasn't really needed, but there was no point assuming a false interest in them or their city, when she really could not care less about what the other elves thought of her.

Let them gawk; that was all they could do.

A sneer curled her lips at that point. She had learnt plenty at the House of Black and White, but the knowledge that a crowd was lead on by the views of others was knowledge that she deeply despised. After all, if someone spread a rumour about a person's faults or weaknesses, then soon that was all the person would be judged for, not for their merits or good qualities.

Maybe this was what Tywin meant when he spoke about legacy to her in Harrenhal; a man's reputation was all he had, and if that was tarnished, then it would be tarnished forever. He would have been furious to know that he was only thought of as the man who fathered a dwarf, a dwarf who then killed him while he was in a less than desirable location. Dying while your body was getting rid of waste was a horrible way to go.

The only thing she regretted was that she hadn't been able to kill him herself.

Haldir took the left turn on one of the walkways, leading her into an area that was steadily becoming more and more crowded, the buildings getting more beautiful as they went on, covered in emerald-like vines that swayed in the light breeze, their lilac flowers glowing in the light of the morning sun.

The elves themselves were milling around, greeting friends, inspecting goods such as silk cloth and discussing the values. It was just another normal day for them, but Arya could sense that there was a tightness in the air, a feeling of unease and grim expectation, with the sounds of the city somewhat muted.

Seeing the thin line of Haldir's mouth, she could guess he felt it too.

After some time, they came to a relatively secluded platform, where the floor was made of a perfectly polished white stone and there were steps leading up to another platform.

On that platform, an elven lady was waiting.

Her hair was long and golden, her skin was pale and seemed to glow with an inner light, and her face was beautiful and flawless.

She smiled benignly at Arya, and Arya noticed that she seemed to be welcoming her and Nymeria.

Haldir took in a breath to speak, but Arya beat him to it, not in the mood to contend with needless formalities. " **Lady Galadriel, you sent us the call, and we have answered it. If you have something to discuss, speak and I will listen**."

Galadriel's face took on a surprised look, just like Haldir did. They stared at her, and then Galadriel began to smile, and it was as if she was pleased to find someone who wouldn't be obsequious or simpering. " **It is nice to finally meet you, Cat of the Fellowship**."

" **You know full well that is not my name, just as you know that this is not the first time we have come into contact.** "

Galadriel simply smiled and gestured for Arya to join her. " **Walk with me**." It was a command, not a request, but it was one that Arya knew she had to obey.

Haldir took his leave silently, but not before giving her an assessing look. Satisfied with what he saw, he bowed his head and was gone.

The direwolf and the elf climbed up the silver steps to where Galadriel was waiting.

" **Is there a place we can talk without being overheard**?" Arya asked immediately. She knew that what they were going to be discussing could be disastrous if heard by the wrong ears, and it seemed that Galadriel did too, for she began to walk deeper into shade of the trees, and both of them followed.

~o0o~

The silver fountain was beautiful, the water in it glowing in the sunlight, intricate engravings on its white rims.

Arya stayed back as the elven Lady stepped up to it, running a slender hand around the carving of a flower. " **Do you know how many times I have looked into this fountain and seen different places, different times, different people, Arya Stark?** "

" **Many times** ," she replied without any emotion colouring her tone.

Galadriel smiled wistfully. " **Sometimes I wished to be able to communicate with them, to ask them what their lives were like, to see if they knew what happens in the here and now, to find out if what I did could affect them somehow. So far, only once have I managed to speak to someone**."

" **Oh, I know** ," she stated matter of factly. _"_ **'You have suffered much, little Arya, but be brave, for you are needed. Remember: the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Do not abandon the pack you will find, or else the world will suffer for your mistakes.'** " She laughed lowly. " **Which world were you referring to? The one I left or the one I joined?** "

Galadriel's eyes darkened a little. " **I do not know what happened exactly, but once I had spoken to you, I felt something. Not evil, not good, just a presence, all-seeing and all-knowing, and I can still feel the nothingness I sensed from it, the many aspects of it twisting and powerful and old, older than time. I saw more futures, possible paths you could take that could either ruin us all or save us all. Fire, darkness, water, light. All I can remember of it is red and white, white and red, and the smell of the forest, the sunlight brushing the tops of leaves and the wind dancing through the branches. Even my recollection of the words I spoke was strange, almost as if the words were being pulled out of me. To answer your question, I do not know. It could be both, it could just be one, it could be none. That is for you to decide.** "

Arya's mask slipped somewhat, before being rearranged perfectly. " **Do you expect me to know what the presence was**?"

" **Not at all**." Galadriel laughed, a clear, bell-like sound that rippled like the waves in the fountain. " **But I expect you to suspect something. And if I am not very much mistaken, I think you can guess.** "

Nymeria growled lowly, hackles raised, because there _was_ something they knew that fit this, and there was no way that any good could come of it if they meddled.

" **You cannot expect me to help you understand this, because I myself do not know, but I can assure you that I will try to find out.** "

" **And I can assure you that there will be no 'try' in that.** " Galadriel laughed again, though quieter this time. " **You do not have much time before the others arrive; already they have entered the borders of Lorien**." A small frown marred her face. " **Although I disapprove of the Warg, I can sense that he is different from the rest of his kind, much like your own direwolf.** "

" **Have all of the Fellowship returned**?" Arya returned coldly.

The frown deepened. " **Gandalf is not among them**."

The young elf bowed her head slightly as a sign of respect. " **There are always losses in war.** " They both knew that Gandalf would not have left the Fellowship of his own free will; his character was not one to up and go.

 **"Too true** ," Galadriel agreed sadly. " **But there are still other things to discuss. How is your gift coming along?** "

Arya tilted her head at the Lady, her eyes narrowed. " **What gift**?" There was an unbreakable mask of confusion and innocence on her face, with her eyes unreadable.

Galadriel grinned slightly. " **Do not forget to practise the skin-changing before you try it out on your fellows. They will need your skill to help them in the near future is what I can sense**." Abruptly her tone turned forceful. " **I have a task for you. It need not be carried out if you have no wish for it, but if done, it may prevent the loss of Gondor to the darkness."**

" **Aragorn's land.** " Arya raised out a hand, and Nymeria shifted closer to her side. " **I will not agree to anything just yet, but I will listen."**

 **"You are an assassin."**

There it was. The basic fact. All that remained was the confirmation. **"I am**."

Galadriel carefully traced the pattern of the stone basin. " **Lord Denethor is the Steward of Gondor, bound to keep the peace and rule the country in place of the king, yet I fear that he is being corrupted by darkness. Rumour has it that he possesses a Palantir, a... magical crystal ball, let's say, through which he can communicate with Sauron himself, and his actions of late have been irregular. When I sent out envoys a few moons back, he dismissed their warning about the growing shadow in Mordor. Instead of preparing for a fight, he sits back and plans to watch as the other nations are ruined by the darkness**."

" **How will removing Boromir's father help anything? In such a time of unrest, surely it would be wiser to keep him in place than to cause political disruption as well. His mind may well be swayed to your cause. Fear is a powerful enemy, and that is what will arise if Denethor is to be involved in an... accident of any kind."**

 **"The consequences will be simple to sort out; Faramir, his younger son, is brave and just, and already he understands the dangers of Sauron's growing power. If he acquires the position of Steward of Gondor, or Boromir does, they will be more willing to help in the war that is coming."**

Arya's mask still remained. " **Are elves not supposed to be creatures of Light?** " she mused coldly. " **Yet it seems one of their most powerful is ready to resort to underhanded tactics to ensure their victory in a war.** "

" **And I believed the Starks were honourable, just and wise** ," Galadriel returned calmly. " **Yet it seems that one with the Stark name has become a murderer and an assassin**."

The two smiled coldly at each other.

 **"I have lived a long time** ," the Lady then stated. " **More than twelve thousand years. In all those days, I realised that there is no black or white, one or the other. It is not that simple. The world is coloured with shades of grey, some darker, others lighter, but true black and true white are hard to find. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the sake of the right cause.** " She turned to the fountain. " **True black would be Sauron, an evil that knows no bounds. An example of true white would be your father. He obeyed the king Baratheon loyally, took Jon Snow in even when Catelyn Tully hated him, chose to tell a mother that he knew her greatest secret in the hopes that she would be able to save her children with no care for his own life**."

" **You are right in calling Catelyn a 'Tully". I fear that the long years in the North never truly made her a Stark; she would never have proposed we learn to sing and look pretty instead of knowing how to face true winter. My sister was lost because of it.** " Arya's face tightened involuntarily. " **And Eddard may never be a true white. He fathered my brother in wedlock after all**."

Galadriel's face grew thoughtful. " **He never told you the circumstances of your brother's birth**?"

" **Never**."

" **That is one advantage of this fountain** ," the Lady muttered. " **After I spoke to you, I... _explored_ , for lack of a better word. I researched**." She gestured to the fountain. " **Look at it. Focus. It will show you what you need to know**."

Arya stepped up to the fountain without fear. " **Just to remind you** ," she added as an afterthought, " **if I die because of this I will find you and ensure that whatever happens to me happens to you as well**." She dipped her head in as Nymeria protectively circled around her back.

~o0o~

It was less than ten minutes later that she stepped back and away, her eyes wide with fear and shaking all over.

Galadriel eyed her with worry. " **What did you see**?" Her voice gave away her nervousness and panic. " **The vision should have lasted less than three minutes**."

Arya laughed coldly, and her mask was back in place once more. " **Aye, I saw the circumstances of my brother's birth. I also saw something interesting**."

The Lady opened her mouth to speak.

 **"It wasn't important**." The finality of Arya's tone prevented the elf speaking further.

Nymeria nuzzled at her companion's hand with a worried but accepting look. The young Stark sighed and scratched the direwolf behind her ears. **"Was there anything else you wished to inform me of?** "

Galadriel dipped her head in a slow nod. " **The circumstances of the origin of the Stark family. It is a strange tale, and therefore it makes all the more sense to the listener. I must warn you that some parts are what I believe happened, while others are based in fact, so it may not be entirely correct, but it is my closest guess."**

 **"We have time**."

The elf nodded and began. **"When I was about three and a half thousand years old, still quite a young elf by normal standards, Middle Earth was far different to how it is now. I have tried to see how it truly was in those times through this fountain, but the resulting images were blurred and unfocused. However, I managed to uncover a secret that all of us had long forgotten**." She paused for a while, trying to catch fleeting memories and the faint whispers of a young man's name.

" **There was a man who lived once, long ago.** **His elder brother was called Huor, and was the grandfather of Earendil, who founded the Numenoreans. Aragorn would have told you that he is a Dunadan; the Dunedain are the descendants of the Numenoreans who survived the Downfall of Numenor.** "

" **Who was 'he'?** " Arya pressed gently.

Galadriel lifted her shoulders in sadness. " **I do not remember his name. No one does. He was forgotten in the mists of time, wiped from living memory by courtesy of his own brother.** " Her lips twisted into a wry smile. " **Or rather, his half-brother. He was the bastard of Huor's father and an elf**."

" **Why would someone do that to their sibling? Make the world forget them**?" she asked softly, trying to push away memories of Sansa's coldness to Jon.

 **"Power. Huor's brother was well-loved by his people, almost more so than Huor himself. He was brave, noble, seeing the world through eyes that judged fairly and recognised the pure truth, the clear truth, the _stark_ truth**." Galadriel's eyes darkened. " **So Huor began to make plans to remove him**."

Arya listened with increasing anticipation.

 **"The brother was ordered to sail to the Undying Lands in order to ask the gods for their most treasured jewel; a seed of the Craobhgeal, the White Tree that now grows in Gondor. Huor had believed that the gods would be so angered at this request that they would strike him down, but they answered the brother's plea, and gave him not one, but two saplings. It was on his return from the Undying Lands that a ferocious storm blew up, only three days sail from the land of the Numenor. Although most of the crew were saved, and one of the saplings, the brother and five of the men most loyal to him fell overboard. As you can imagine, Huor was overjoyed at such a success to his plan, and immediately started removing all traces of the men that were lost**."

 **"That was not the end, though, was it?** " she asked quietly, even if she already knew the answer.

Galadriel shook her head. " **The gods were angry. Furious, even. They pulled the six men out of the waves and sent them to a different world, one where they would be able to build new lives for themselves. This world was far colder, harsher, with the inhabitants a ragged and experienced race, who valued honour and the strength of sticking together, and the men _thrived_."**

" **I'm surprised it only took the men and their descendants a couple of hundred years to dominate the entire north of the continent** ," Arya murmered quietly.

But Galadriel shook her head. " **There is far more to the north of Winterfell than you may realise**." Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. " **Do not delude yourself into thinking there are only icy wastelands with snow-covered moors. There is evil there, just like the evil in Mordor, possibly even more dangerous than Sauron. For not even _he_ can raise the dead**."

Arya's face went white. " **The Others? But surely they are just a fairy-tale? But no..**." she whispered to herself. " **The Wall was built for a _reason_. The Wildlings were never an issue... they were only scouts for the Night's Watch... a simple stone wall thirty feet hich could keep them out easily. Not a massive structure of ice and snow cutting across the whole of Westeros**."

The Lady nodded grimly. " **The brother's great-great-grandson was named Brandon, and the name 'Stark' was his title, as he could see what others could not. He saw the _stark_ truth of the Others, and he organised the defence of men against the dead. They won, but barely, and then built the Wall to defend against a future assault. Unfortunately, valuable knowledge has been forgotten since that time, and the Night's Watch has fallen into disrepair**."

" **A ragtag of murderers and rapists** ," Arya growled softly.

" **Exactly so**." They stood in silence for a while, with Nymeria loyally at Arya's side. " **The two worlds are linked, somehow. The Starks have the blood of elves and the Numenoreans, which is more than the rest of the Great Houses possess**." Galadriel's hand drifted at Arya's face for a while. " **There is also a faint magical signature that I do not recognise. It smells like the forest, like the fresh smell of pine and snow. Your line is powerful, and you have the ability to do either great harm, or great good. You just need to decide which."**

The quick steps of Haldir caught their attention.

He bowed briefly as he arrived in front of them and then straightened. " **I apologise for intruding, but in about an hour's time I and some others will set out to apprehend the Fellowship. What orders do we have regarding the warg and the dwarf?** "

Arya thought it was quite commendable that he managed to conceal his distaste so well.

" **They are not to be harmed** ," Galadriel stated, " **but for the dwarf, don't be afraid to use a little intimidation. It will do him good**."

Haldir bowed again and left, the heels of his boots clacking neatly against the roots of the mallorn trees around them.

Galadriel sighed slightly, then turned to follow him. Looking back, she extended a hand to Arya and Nymeria. " **Please, do come and clean yourselves up. And think about my proposal**."

 **"I will consider it** ," Arya replied softly as she came to the Lady's side, even if she didn't take her offered hand.

The elven Lady smiled. " **Good**."

~o0o~

It was only as Arya was finally getting out of the bath that she remembered what Galadriel had said.

 _'The Starks have the blood of elves and Numenoreans.'_

Starks, as in the plural. Have, as in the present tense.

Deep in her heart, a tendril of hope began to grow.

 **AN: 31/12/2017: I have just done some fairly heavy editing, so if you are a returning reader, I advise you to reread the story, as grammar mistakes and plot holes have been cleared up.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

She hated waiting.

Regardless of how long it actually took, or whether it was for an important occasion or not, she hated it - hated it with a passion that burned brighter than a thousand suns.

Or maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but still, Arya thought gloomily as she twirled a dagger through her fingers, glaring at all the elves eyeing her warily.

They all managed to look away somehow, strangely enough.

With a frustrated hiss, she got to her feet and started pacing in the secluded little courtyard, muttering angry curses under her breath. The elven guards, although there for her 'safety', were nothing more than a nuisance; peace and solitude were so hard to find nowadays, and she needed to think. Besides, she could protect herself far better than anyone who wore such ridiculous clothing.

Turning a corner, Arya tripped on a cobblestone and almost skewered herself with the dagger she still clutched tightly.

"Not funny," she growled, face burning red, as Nymeria gave an amused huff from where she was sprawled in front of the ornate stone bench.

She had forgotten; she _herself_ was wearing clothing just as ridiculous as theirs.

After Galadriel's little talk with her, Arya had been led to a small chamber where a bath was waiting. Although Galadriel had promised her that nothing would happen to her tunic and leggings, they had vanished very suspiciously while her head was turned.

One second, she had been rinsing her black hair. The next, she was being forced into this monstrosity of a dress while Galadriel apologetically told her that the original clothing needed to be washed, and so she would have to wear a substitute instead.

A. Dress. And. _Heels._

Arya wasn't stupid though. She had seen the smirk.

It was a surprise she hadn't slit her own throat. At least she had been graciously allowed to keep all her weapons, and the sheathes that went along with them. Arwen's gauntlets too, although Galadriel had raised her eyebrows when she'd seen them.

Arya blamed her inaction to oppose the dress on the strange concepts introduced by Galadriel. Killing Denethor? Sure, okay, if that's what the Lady of Light thought was best. She just needed to run it through with Boromir and Aragorn first.

The possibility of the worlds being connected? Whatever, might be useful for later if she decided to go back to Westeros once the Hobbits were safe. Not likely, but good to have a lead just in case.

Black and white, white and black? It was all the same, a bit hard to understand, but okay once you got it.

It was what she had seen in the fountain that bothered her the most. Arya forced down the bile that rose in her throat at the memories, steadying the urge to throw up, sitting back down on the bench and breathing in measured amounts, a horrible grey feeling coming over her.

" **Are you alright, my lady**?" one of the elves offered uncertainly.

Nyneria snarled at him immediately, hackles rising as she got to her four paws and shook out her newly-groomed fur, a menacing look in her golden eyes. Not even a direwolf managed to escape washing, and it had seriously annoyed her.

" **Please do not call me a lady,** " Arya forced out politely from behind clenched teeth, hand dropping to feel Needle's handle, reassuring with its cold weight by her side.

The elf nodded slightly, face impassive, even at the blatant disgust in her tone, and turned back to his position guarding the entrance to the clearing.

She had to give it to the lot of them, they were a lot better than human guards. At least they could keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

A slight rustle by the pathway coming into the clearing alerted them all to Galadriel's approach.

" **What do you want**?" Arya snapped bitterly. Just because Galadriel was the Lady of Light didn't mean that she had to obey her every whim, or act respectful. While Arya was grateful for the knowledge given, there were parts of it she could have gone without, such as what she had seen in the fountain. _Especially_ what she had seen in the fountain.

To give Galadriel credit, she didn't bat an eye at Arya's tone. " **The Fellowship of the Ring will arrive soon, in about half an hour. Are you ready to meet with them?** "

" **Not yet I'm not** ," the young elf muttered glumly. " **Are there any proper clothes here somewhere I could change into before?** "

The Lady of Light smiled pleasantly. " **More dresses, yes**."

" **You know what I meant** ," Arya huffed in displeasure. " **I don't see how me being in a dress, and heels, will help anything**."

Galadriel tutted disapprovingly. " **You are a princess. You might as well dress like it for the time being**." She walked further into the clearing, sitting down beside Arya on the bench gracefully, a small elf child following her nervously, carrying a silver basket. " **Shoulders back, and head up, princess**." Tapping on Arya's shoulder as an indication for her to turn, Galadriel took a golden hairbrush from the basket.

Arya obeyed grudgingly, shifting slightly on the bench so that the Lady of Light could reach her hair, which was still a bit damp and unbrushed from her bath.

As Galadriel carefully began separating strands, Arya felt herself starting to relax. The feeling of someone else brushing her hair was one that she loved, regardless of the vulnerability that came with it. The last time someone had done it for her was so long ago, almost too long - surprisingly enough, Jon had the honour of being the last person to do so before she had left with her father and Sansa for King's Landing.

It had been a painful memory for the past ten years, but the knowledge that some of her family still survived gave it a rosy glow of hope.

" **Which of the Starks still live**?" she asked quietly.

Galadriel didn't answer at first, just continued brushing out Arya's hair. Hair that fell to her waist, black as midnight, slightly wavy too.

Sansa would have called it beautiful.

Arya called it a pain in the neck.

She'd have cut it long ago, but she had listened to enough lectures from Catelyn about cutting the hair just right, ' _or the strands will break and your hair will be ruined, and we don't want that, do we?'_

Because sure, it was just hair, but she'd been young and impressionable then, and the (actually quite scary) stories from Sansa about what hair would do if not cut right still turned her stomach.

So Arya had just thought to hell with it and not cut her hair at all. The ends were a bit broken and tattered, sure, but it wasn't really noticeable if she just shoved it into a braid, bun or ponytail. It was easier than having the memories of Sansa and Catelyn glaring at her and plotting vengeance from their graves.

Or... maybe Sansa wasn't dead.

Eddard was, she had seen it with her own two eyes.

Catelyn and Robb, she had been at the gates of the Twins when the doors slammed shut and the dying started. There was no possible way for them to have survived that.

Bran and Rickon... there were so many rumours, so many different versions of what happened, but they all agreed that the Turncloak Greyjoy had had them burned. When she had found out, she had added a new name to her list. A list that still remained; she didn't know whether she'd ever have the chance, but if she did, she would kill them without a second thought.

Jon was dead. His men had turned on him, killed him. For honour, for glory, for the Night's Watch. She had heard _that_ two months before she found out about Sansa, and it was nothing short of a miracle that had stopped her breaking down then. As it was, she had spent the whole day crying in her chambers in the House of Black and White, cursing the gods, old and new.

It had taken Sansa's fate for her to finally break, sure as she was that being married to the Bolton bastard could only mean a long and painful death.

But maybe... just maybe, her sister had managed to escape, to live. She had survived Joffrey, after all.

" **It's Sansa, isn't it?** " she asked quietly. Galadriel paused slightly, having started to braid Arya's hair, already about halfway down. Arya took a deep breath and tried again. " **Is Sansa still alive?** "

The Lady of Light sighed softly and started braiding again. " **Yes, your sister is still alive. However, she is not -** "

They were interrupted by Haldir suddenly entering the clearing. Upon seeing them, he bowed deeply. " **My Lady, Your Highness, the Fellowship has been found and is being brought to Lorien. I came ahead to alert you, and I will rejoin them soon.** "

Arya's muttered ' **don't call me that** ' was ignored by both of them.

Galadriel nodded to Haldir, already tying up the finished braid (how did she manage to do it so fast?) and standing, beckoning once more to the little elf. The child rushed forward, eager to please, and the Lady of Light smiled gently to her as she took out two more objects from the basket.

Arya's jaw nearly dropped as she beheld the first object.

It was a crown, made of iron, with nine spikes in the shapes of swords rising up from an unadorned circular band. Simple, yet strong, it glinted with a dull power in the light from the mallorn trees.

Carefully getting up and taking it from Galadriel, she held it up with reverence. As an exact replica of the crown of the Kings of Winter, some may have thought it plain, but there was no need for gaudy decorations in the barren North, where honour and justice held sway, with the crown's purpose clear to all who looked.

Such a crown was not that of the Southern Kings, who were held on the throne by marriage and politics and gold.

This crown was meant for warrior kings.

" **I am afraid it is not the true one, but has been crafted as close to the original as I could remember from the my visions in the fountain,** " Galadriel said quietly. " **It is a crown of power. It suits the Starks.** "

Arya nodded slowly, weighing it in her hands. At Nymeria's forceful whine, she stopped stalling and gave it back to Galadriel, keeping the regret locked down behind her walls. " **Your craftsmen have rendered it exact to the crown my brother wore.** " She had seen it, just before the oak doors of the Twins had slammed shut. Just before the screaming started.

Galadriel blinked at her in confusion. " **You're supposed to wear it.** " Shaking her head with a slight smile, the elven lady reached forward and carefully placing the crown on Arya's head, taking care not to disrupt the intricate braids she had wrought. Surveying her work, Galadriel smiled again, more broadly this time. " **It suits you** **too** **.** "

" **Yeah, sure,** " Arya muttered quietly, but she did stand a bit straighter. The weight of the crown felt comforting on her brow. It wasn't as good as the original, but it worked.

Galadriel now held up a black cloak with a grey direwolf embroidered on the back, the second object. " **Although not the traditional Stark colours, I felt that these were more applicable to you. From darkness comes a middle ground.** " She carefully swept it across Arya's shoulders, securing it in place with a silver direwolf clasp. The cloak was light enough not to be a hindrance, its colours fitting perfectly to those of the dress Arya now wore.

The younger elf gave the elder a resigned look. " **None of this is a coincidence, is it?** "

The elven lady actually snorted at that. " **Please wait for me to announce you before you show yourself. I worked hard on these clothes, the least I deserve is to watch their reactions when they see how beautiful you are.** "

Shocked, Arya tried to retort but only managed a squeak of embarrassment, her cheeks burning red. She wasn't beautiful! She wasn't Sansa!

Nymeria looked just as affronted.

Galadriel sighed dramatically. " **Haldir, please confirm to this form of stupidity in front of me that she is, in fact, quite beautiful. It just took a lot of clean water to let it shine through.** " Apparently the Lady of Light could be just like Arya when she tried.

Now Haldir looked affronted too. " **She does not look hideous** ," he acknowledged sullenly. " **Better than others.** "

" **Wow, thanks** ," Arya bit out sarcastically. " **And yes, I am hideous, but I don't mind. It's saved my life quite a few times**."

Shrugging, the Lady of Light turned away, beckoning them to follow her. " **We should not keep the Fellowship waiting. Haldir, please go ahead. Arya, at least try to act like a princess, it will certainly shock them enough to be a valuable form of entertainment. And don't worry - I'll make sure you find love someday.** "

" **What does love have to do with anything?** " Arya snapped at Galadriel's back, barely keeping up in the heels, but she received no answer, which might have been just as well.

 **AN: Apologies for the late update, but thanks to all the reviews, favourites and follows! They were a great help for the motivation to get this up.**

 **The crown I had in mind is the one in this link if you remove all the pluses and scroll down a bit when you get to the page:**

 **gameofthrones+.+wikia+.+com+/+wiki+/+King_in_the_North**

 **On a different note, I've made quite a few alterations to the story, so I 'd advise you to reread it just in case. If you find any plot-holes, please do tell me, and I'll fix them.**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thanks for the support so far, especially from guest reviewer Lily and everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed this story, without whom I wouldn't have had the motivation to finally get this chapter done! Updates are unfortunately going to be few and far between, as I have 12 really big tests happening soon, but the next one might be up by the end of April. Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter 21**

She was ready. She could do this. She was Arya Stark, and she definitely _was not_ nervous or worried when about to meet her brilliant companions who had only just survived a demon rock straight from the seven hells.

...Who was she kidding, she was absolutely terrified.

Her back was uncomfortably tense and straight as she stood some distance back from the silver platform where Galadriel stood, looking down and talking to the Fellowship, which was obscured from her view.

She knew, even without being able to see them, that Gandalf would not greet her. He wasn't there.

Nymeria whimpered beside her, perfectly able to scent Morry. Her tail was wagging slightly, but not strongly; she was nervous too.

What Arya needed was to get out there, make a great impression and prove she was still part of their team, that her disappearance wasn't a reason for her to be kicked out. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she might have admitted that she didn't want to lose her friends either. It was stupid of her to get so attached in such a short time, true, but she had.

And now there was a very strong possibility they'd disown her. Leave her to rot. Alone.

The iron crown weighed heavy on her head.

But Arya couldn't let that get to her, because they still needed her, right? She could still help them fight.

So when Galadriel looked back and smiled at her warmly, she stepped out with her head held high, Needle sheathed on her right side and Nymeria prowling beside her. She glided to a stop next to Galadriel, sharing a knowing glance with her, and only then did she look down at the Fellowship, cataloguing their reactions and expressions in less than a blink of an eye, a calm and serene look upon her own features. No one looked angry or suspicious – strangely enough, they all looked relieved. A little starstruck, some of them, but nothing too much out of the ordinary.

"Arya?!" came the cry from the four Hobbits, who looked dirty and tired but not hurt at all. Possibly a little shaken, but nothing a bath and food wouldn't fix. The tension in her shoulders loosened unnoticeably when they gave her great big grins, their eyes sparkling with joy.

"We were so worried!" Sam called up, waving his hands wildly. He then looked at her again, blushed red and promptly ducked his face down into the folds of his cloak.

She had to smile at that.

Morry had already given a howl of delight, his tail wagging fiercely as he reared up slightly on his back paws, whining as he looked up at Nymeria. He had grown very quickly, from a puppy to the gangly inbetween that could be classified as a wolfy teenager, and he only had eyes for Nymeria, judging by the lovestruck expression on his long, furry face.

The direwolf simply looked down at him dispassionately, then archly turned her head away, flaunting her soft, clean fur. Morry tucked his tail between his legs and crouched down with a playful yip, whining forlornly when she refused to look at him again, ears flat against his head with disappointment and longing.

It was near impossible for Arya to stifle a giggle, because she was an assassin, she did not _giggle_ at a Warg's first crush like Sansa would have. Maybe in private, but certainly not out in the open.

Legolas was the first whose eyes she met. He looked surprised, shocked, but there was more than that on his face – there was pride, of all things, and joy. He gave her a smile when he noticed her watching him, not broad but no less effective in conveying his happiness.

Gimli, standing beside him, looked slightly disgruntled, but just as happy as he could ever get, though he quickly scowled to cover up the almost starstruck look on his face.

Boromir was staring at her with eyes wide and jaw nearly on the ground. Arya raised an eyebrow at him, and he flushed and quickly looked away, his face as red as Sam's.

Finally, she gathered the courage to turn her gaze to Aragorn steadfastly. He watched her calmly, but she noticed the way his shoulders drooped with relief and the brief sparkle of joy that entered his grey eyes. A weight slipped off her, and she stood a fraction taller, glancing at Galadriel just once.

The Lady of Light nodded minutely, and from the corner of her eyes Arya could see the elven guards leave and vanish into the surroundings, including those that had accompanied Galadriel, who herself stayed on the platform, though she stepped back slightly to give Arya the full space.

The younger elf held up a hand for silence.

The Fellowship, mainly the Hobbits, quieted at once, their ratty clothes and tired postures painfully obvious now the shock of seeing her again had passed.

Arya paused, making sure she had their absolute attention, then spoke out in a strong, clear voice. "I am sure you have wondered who I am, where I have come from, and how I tie into your world." She met the gaze of all the Fellowship before continuing. "This knowledge will **not** be spread around. Am I clear?"

They all murmured various forms of consent. Legolas looked curious, the Hobbits nervous, Boromir distrustful. The Ring had to be taking its toll. Briefly, she remembered her promise to him, then pushed away the guilt that filled her. It wasn't necessary at all to feel it, not now; she could work on saving him from the Ring's power later, selfish as that was.

Aragorn was the only who met her gaze squarely and without fear. He already knew who she was, had figured it out easily enough after she had given him the information about her world, if the aura of tumultous concern surrounding him the following morning had been any indication at all. He had probably burned the papers right after absorbing as much as he could, for if he had simply hidden them then anyone could have discovered their resting place, and a huge advantage on their side would have been lost. As much of an advantage as it could be, anyway.

She straightened her spine, fixed them all with a challenging look, and spoke her secret aloud for them to hear. "My true name is Princess Arya of Houses Stark and Tully, one of the Skinchangers, daughter of Winterfell and Lady of the North."

They all stared at her.

The next thing she knew, they were all on their knees with their heads bowed down.

She blinked. "Wait. What? Are you lot okay?"

"You're actually _royalty_? _"_ Merry and Pippin squeaked out. Frodo and Sam nodded frantically beside them.

"Um. Yes? I apologise for not mentioning it before?" she asked uncertainly. "Why are you all kneeling?"

"Because you are a princess, and custom dictates we kneel, regardless of how big a nuisance you were beforehand," Aragorn pointed out helpfully, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Arya hmphed. "So, I'm a princess, so what? Most of you are practically royalty yourselves, so get up and stop straining your knees, otherwise you old men will complain about nothing else for the rest of the year."

They all groaned, but did as she said, brushing off their trousers.

"I am not old," Legolas muttered half-heartedly, shooting her a weak glare.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Of course you're not old." Legolas smiled slightly, and she grinned mischievously. "You've seen two thousand years, old doesn't describe you anymore. You're ancient." He shot her a miffed look.

"Hear, hear," Gimli muttered gruffly, effectively gaining himself a more powerful glare from Legolas. "Let the lass be, at least she's not fooled by your pretty faces."

Legolas smiled smugly. "It is nice to hear a dwarf admit it, I can give you that."

"What?" Gimli spluttered. "Why, you –"

"No fighting please, children," Galadriel broke in, a small smile playing on her lips. "I am the oldest here, so you obey my orders. And those are; wash, eat and sleep. As quickly as possible, if you please."

"True enough, I can smell the stink from here," Arya supplied helpfully. "Considering you all look dead on your feet, I'd say sleep right after you wash. Oh, and watch your clothes. They have a tendency to vanish if you don't keep your eyes open."

Even Sam, typically the oblivious one, noticed the smug look that flitted over Galadriel's face. "So that's why you're wearing a dress, your highness?"

Arya shuddered. "First of all, don't call me that, it's a horrible title. Considering I'm one of the shortest here, I can hardly be high and or tall compared to everyone. Second of all, just Arya is fine. And third, yes, the only reason I have this monstrosity on is because _someone_ snatched my clothes while I was helpless to stop it."

Galadriel snorted delicately. "Ignore her, she enjoyed the bath."

"I thought I was safe and my clothes were stolen, go figure," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway, it was either a dress or go naked, and not even I'm that stupid. At least the cloak is nice, regardless of the dress, and I got to keep my weapons. Oh, and the crown." She tapped one of its spikes. "I like this crown. I'm going to keep it."

"You look beautiful," Aragorn blurted out suddenly.

They all froze.

Then as one they swivelled around to give him an incredulous look.

Nymeria barked out a very wolf-like laugh, watching the scene with undisguised fascination.

His face went red. "You said the dress was a mostrosity, and it's not, I'm defending it! You do look beautiful with it on you!"

Arya felt her own face go pink. "Oh. Um. Thank you?" she managed to squeak out.

Gimli's face formed into a bawdy smirk as he elbowed Aragorn in the side. "And I'm sure you'd like the lass even better without it on, am I right?"

Legolas and Aragorn both choked on their breaths, Boromir tried to hide an amused smirk and Galadriel actually chuckled as the Hobbits went flaming red. Arya felt the blood rush to her face to make it match the exact shade of a ruby.

"That – is – not – what – I – meant!" Aragorn managed to heave out inbetween coughs. "Was I supposed to lie and tell her she looked ugly?"

Arya fluttered her eyelashes and pouted, putting a hand on heart and making lovey-eyes at him. "How could you even consider such a thing?" she simpered in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could muster.

The Hobbits burst out laughing, clutching their sides and practically rolling around on the floor as Aragorn's tongue tied itself up in knots as he tried to explain, only digging himself deeper with every word.

Arya held her act for a few seconds longer, but then her and Legolas' eyes met and it was all over, both bursting into loud peals of laughter.

Galadriel provided the perfect background with her tinkly laugh as Aragorn just stood in the middle of it all, face red and thoroughly embarrassed, covering his eyes with a hand as he groaned at their hysterics. "I cannot wait for you all to grow up."

"Never," Gimli snorted. "We'll get you to loosen up one day, Heir of Gondor, you who can't even compliment a woman properly. You need to practice. A lot."

Morry growled lightly in agreement beside Nymeria, who did a very good impression of Arya when she rolled her golden eyes in a perfect imitation, subtly shifting over to put more space between herself and the Warg. He, of course, was completely oblivious and budged over too, plopping down beside the direwolf and trying inefficiently to groom her fur.

Nymeria whimpered and buried her face in her forepaws.

"Who's laughing now, girl?" Arya called over, and Nymeria gave her a baleful glare from the huddle of her forelegs. Morry practically purred beside her, affectionately butting Nymeria's shoulder. Never mind that he was less than a quarter of her size, with still a long way to grow yet; apparently Wargs grew to be just as big as direwolves when adults.

Maybe that was where the word had come from in Westeros, where a Warg was a skinchanger that had an affinity with larger dog breeds, most often wolves. Robb had been named a Warg himself due to his connection with Grey Wolf. It was possible that thousands of years ago, the man who had founded the Stark line had met direwolves and named them Wargs, but the term had then been confused for those skinchangers who were able to link with the direwolves.

Unfortunately, many things were lost in time, never to be seen again. Such was the way of the world.

Arya was certainly not prepared for the Hobbits to suddenly mob her as soon as they had stopped laughing.

"Easy," she laughed as they all hugged her at once, almost bringing their huddle down to the ground with the force involved.

"We missed you so much!" Sam exclaimed. "It's great that you're back!"

"I thought you were dead," Frodo muttered quietly.

"I'm hard to kill,' she told him honestly, then she looked to the others and grinned. "Group hug?"

They all looked at each other, shrugged and joined in, though Legolas still managed to snicker at Aragorn's lightly flushed face.

Galadriel cleared her throat once they had pulled apart, a wide smile hovering over her features. "You have travelled far and seen much, and it is time for you to rest for a while." A few elves filtered into the clearing. "You will be taken to the bathing rooms, and after you shall be given new clothes and taken to your quarters for the night, where I expect you to eat and then sleep. It is one of the key factors of recovery, after all. We can discuss your quest later, once you are all more refreshed, with clearer minds and lifted spirits." At Arya's lifted eyebrow, she sighed in defeat. "Yes, you shall have your clothes back."

"Brilliant," Arya said brightly, quickly striding forward and hearing the Fellowship scramble after her. "The faster I'm out of this dress, and these _heels_ , the better."


End file.
